


Of Wolf & Man

by satanic_panic



Category: The Lone Gunmen (TV), The X-Files
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Hospitals, M/M, Mutual Pining, Protective Custody, Werewolf!reader, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28720677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satanic_panic/pseuds/satanic_panic
Summary: Whilst chasing after a murderer, Fox has to meet up with an old friend who's being hunted with the intention of being framed, but when he puts them into protective custody, certain feelings for one of The Lone Gunmen come to light, and Fox's old friend has to decide whether or not to admit his big secret.
Relationships: John Byers/Reader, John Fitzgerald Byers/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 4





	1. Wolf & Man

A run through the woods, kicking up dark brown mud and somehow not slipping on oak coloured clay, the cold air on your face and in your hair, the sound of the foxes calling and the leaves humming in the wind, you could close your eyes and live there forever, you could forget all the noise of society and simply exist; the sun was very much down, casting the land in deep darkness, drowning out any light. It was quiet. Peaceful. Cold. You weren't looking where you were going as you caught the scent of something,  _ someone _ familiar, a scent that made you skid and slide on the corner, only just about catching yourself as you barrelled towards the cologne and nearly howled when, just a stretch away, you could see Fox Mulder. 

"Fox! Fox, Fox, Fox!" You barked, bounding over to him and nearly knocking him off of his feet as you slammed into his body and suffocated him in a tight hug. "Hey! How are you?! How's Scully? And Skinner? How's the Gunmen? Have you spoken to them recently? I haven't seen Byers in a while - how is he? Is he okay? Oh my God, it's been so long! I could smell you all the way from over there! How are you? How-"

"Easy, boy," Fox chuckled, hugging you back as he grinned, the news could wait. "Calm down a second." 

"Sorry," you let go, rubbing the back of your neck as you grinned a little nervously. The canines in your mouth were elongated, slightly more curved and definitely sharper, two at the top, two at the bottom. 

Fox waved you off with a friendly smile and a fond shake of his head as he did his best to ignore the glaringly obvious large teeth, the yellow glow of your eyes. He always did try his best not to notice. "But to answer your questions, I'm fine, Scully's fine, Skinner's fine, Langly and Frohike are fine and Byers is… well, he's Byers. He's okay, though, he uh… he asked about you when I said Scully and I were coming here." 

"Where is she?" You asked, looking around and sniffing the air, whining softly when you couldn't see nor smell her. "Fox?" 

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Fox frowned. Now was the time. "There's been a murder, (y/n), and from the looks of it… I'm not convinced, but it looks like a werewolf did it." 

You raised a brow, taking a step back and letting out a soft grumble, shaking your head. "You don't think that-" 

"No," he shook his head. "I know it wasn't you. I think I know who it was, but I can't tell anyone my theory without also telling them you're a werewolf, which I know you don't want."

You sighed, scratching the spot behind your ear that made you stamp your foot. "Oh, fuck, here we go…" 

"I wanna take you somewhere I know you'll be safe," Fox started, "it won't be for long, just until I can find the person and get enough proof. It won't be for long… but I wanna take you to see the Lone Gunmen."

You perked up again, those canine teeth growing and sharpening as your pupils dilated, if you had had a tail, there was no doubt it would have been wagging. "You mean I get to see Langly? And Frohike? I get… I get to see John again?!" 

Fox nodded. "If that makes up for having to be in protective custody." 

You practically jumped on Fox again, although this time you did manage to knock him off of his feet, your hands on his chest as you grinned and barked, quite happily, "I get to see John again?!" 

Fox wasn't expecting the news to go down so well, but all the same, had had yet to tell you that his theory for the murder was that someone was trying to frame you; although, he guessed he could keep that to himself for now, after all, you were more than happy right now. And he figured he'd let you have that. "Yeah, you get to see him again, pup." 

Shoving you off, Fox stood up, brushing himself off and fondly shaking his head. "I've set up a safehouse for you to meet them. I haven't said anything about it, yet." 

You frowned, tilting your head and swallowing thickly. "You… you didn't tell them I would be seeing them again?" 

To answer, he shook his head, although this time it was solemn, and he let out a sigh. 

"Fox…" you grumbled. "Why not?" 

Shrugging, Fox bit at the inside of his lip. "Well, it seems kind of hard to explain when I leave out the reason  _ why  _ you're being hunted… it'll be fine, trust me, (y/n)." 

You scratched at the side of your neck, grumbling as you considered it. "You promise that they'll be safe, too? You promise that Byers-" 

"I promise," Fox told you softly, laying a hand on your shoulder and looking you right in the eye, making you nod slowly as you returned his gaze. “Trust me, please?” 

You let out a soft whimper, not really wanting to disobey, not really wanting to tell Fox that trust wasn’t the problem. How could you live with putting the Lone Gunmen in danger like that? Byers, especially? 

“If you’re sure it’s safe.” 

Fox gestured for you to walk alongside him, following the trail that was barren, just mud and rock that he occasionally kicked, the trees becoming thinner and fewer with each step, the sounds of the foxes and the wind dying down with every second you strayed away; he cleared his throat, sighing heavily. “It’s a safehouse, (y/n), me and Scully checked it out - it’s safe. But, we could always get Skinner to double check quickly, if you want.” 

You huffed, shaking your head and grumbling, tilting your head back to grab a quick whiff of the air; metal and fossil fuels mixed with Fox’s cologne just to the north, along what was left of the trail. A car. His car. “If you and Scully checked it out, then that’s fine by me… how long is it gonna take us to get there?” 

“Not long,” he reassured, checking his watch. “A few hours at most… but please don’t throw up in the back… or stick your head out of the window.” 

“I’m not promising anything,” you chuckled, nudging him with your shoulder. “It’s not a full moon, but I could always shift just to make sure.” 

Fox glared at you, he knew all too well that werewolves that shifted outside of a full moon went through extra pain from forcing it, he knew that it could damage your body just as much as your mind, and he never wanted that. “Save it for the full moon, wolfman.” 

You scoffed, baring your fangs at him for a second. “Smart-ass.” 

“Overgrown lapdog,” he teased, taking the opportunity to get his own back and nudge you with his shoulder. 

“You better shut your mouth, or I’ll play fetch with your newspaper,” you shot back, biting back a laugh. 

“You need a muzzle.” Fox grumbled, smiling as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

“I’ll bite through it,” you grinned, the scent of his car more intense now, and before he could even attempt to stop you, you barrelled down the trail, slipping on clay and mud before slamming into the side of the car, grabbing onto the door handle just before you could fall. You sniffed around the window, wincing at the sickly sweet scent of cherry jam. “What the fuck is that smell?” 

“That,” Fox sighed, unlocking the car and letting you climb into the back, he flicked the Jammie Dodger shaped air freshener. “Is my freshener.” 

You sneezed, shaking your head. “It reeks.” 

“I’ll open the window,” he told you, getting into the driver’s seat and starting the ignition, he immediately rolled down his window before he even thought about starting to drive. “Better?” 

You laid down across the back seats, your legs dangling off of the seat behind Fox, your arms folded as you rested your chin on them. “Better. Thank you.” 

“Get some sleep,” Fox said, glancing at you through the rear view mirror. 

You grumbled, shifting so that your back was firmly against the back of the seats, but you still allowed your eyes to drift shut, starting to slip into a light sleep as Fox started to drive, pulling out of the woods and onto the main road. He would meet back up with Scully once she was done with her autopsy at the local morgue, as was the plan and what he had promised. 

『••✎••』

Fox had been expecting it deep down, werewolves shifting in their sleep were more than common, and were about as painful as changing clothes, but even still, when he looked in the rear view mirror to see how you were doing, he was not expecting to see a large wolf with a brown and grey coat, pale grey fur on the legs, a fluffy tail, and yellow eyes that were hidden away behind the curtains of furry eyelids, your clothes still hung on you, but your shoes were callously dumped on the floor, making him sigh as he realised that he would be charged extra for getting the rental dirty; but when he saw you shivering, whimpering and whining in your sleep as your legs twitched as if you were chasing something in the plains of the dreamworld, Fox pulled over. He shrugged off his jacket, gently opening the back car door, and laid his jacket over you, gently running his hand down your head, scratching your ear before he returned to driving. The shivering stopped by the time he reached the next traffic light. 

“Sleep well, (Y/n).” 

『••✎••』

By the time Fox pulled into the driveway of the safehouse, you had shifted back into your human form, still using his jacket as a blanket, and he almost didn’t have the heart to wake you up. Almost. 

But he didn’t need to, either, as when you caught the scent of something familiar, you shot up, looking around and trying to squirm into the gap between the car and Fox’s seat in order to stick your head out of the window. 

“Good morning,” he chuckled, reaching back to grab his jacket. 

“Are we here?” You asked, moving back and getting your shoes on, tying up the fraying laces as you dared to bare your canines once more with a grin. “We’re here, aren’t we?” 

Fox nodded, climbing out of the driver’s seat and opening the door, but when he saw your teeth, he bit at the inside of his lip. “You, uh, might wanna retract those.” 

You ran over your teeth with your tongue, sighing when you realised. “Shit.” 

He couldn’t help but to wince at the sound of bone shrinking and shortening, going blunt and returning to normal, nor could he help the way he cringed at how blood dripped from your gums. Sure, he had seen you do it a million and one times, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the pain of it. “Are you ready?” 

You nodded, perking up at the scent of freshly ironed suits and slightly out of fashion cologne, aftershave that was sweet like strawberries and the sound of a muffled voice from inside, but just as you were about to bolt, Fox gently caught you. “Good call.” 

“Let’s get you inside, pup,” he chuckled, patting your head and grinning when you growled softly at him. “I’ve already had a bunch of your stuff brought over, it’s a four bedroom, so it shouldn’t be a problem to be alone if you need it. Big garden, too, perfect for playing fetch.” 

You glared at him playfully, frowning as you fell into step beside him, trying to push down the urge to bolt and to run to the smell that you knew all too well, one ingrained so deeply in your mind that you couldn’t shake the excitement, your heart beating two miles a second as you looked at Fox and stared at him for a moment in order to feel that little bit of stress relief; when he opened the door, though, you could no longer hold it in, and the second you saw Byers, you caught him off guard, tackling him in a hug that nearly forced him to the floor as you clung onto him tightly, your arms around his waist as you barked out his name. 

Extremely caught off guard and flushed, Byers let out a soft chuckle, nervous to be so close to you as he held you tightly and struggled for words. Sure, he liked you, a lot, perhaps more than he should have, in fact, definitely more than he should have, and he didn’t really know what to say; it had been so long since he had last seen you, and he certainly wasn’t expecting to now, nor was he expecting such a reaction. So he stayed quiet, smiling to himself as he buried his face against your neck, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to relax into your embrace. 

“Looks like Byers has a friend at last,” Fox chuckled, calmly standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. 

“Mulder,” Langly smiled, looking over at the reunion beside him and nearly giggling. 

“What’s (y/n) got to do with our work?” Frohike asked curiously, not even daring to look over. 

Fox sighed, biting at the inside of his lip as he shrugged. “I need you three to look after him for a while. You’re the only ones we can trust right now.” 

Byers looked up at last, clearing his throat but not daring to let you go, he would let you break the embrace before he did. “What do you… what do you mean?” 

“Protective custody, in a way,” Fox admitted. “I can’t really explain right now.” 

Frohike looked at Langly, who looked back before turning to the FBI agent. “I’m sure we could make it work… right, Frohike?” 

“Sure,” he answered with a nod. “(y/n)’s a joy to have around, anyways.” 

“Yeah, even if he is stuck to Byers like a lovesick puppy,” Fox chuckled, grinning when you unstuck one arm in order to give him your middle finger. “But I, uh, I can’t thank you guys enough for agreeing to this.” 

“It’s a nice, nice surprise,” Byers admitted, laying his hand at the back of your head and hoping you didn’t notice how he shook, excited and nervous to be so close, excited and nervous to see you again, to be able to talk to you. 

“We’ll look after him with our lives,” Frohike promised. “Don’t worry, Mulder, we’ve got you.” 

“Thank you,” Fox nodded, but just as he was about to turn and leave, you reluctantly pulled away from Byers, and went over to him, patting his shoulder. “I’ll be sure to let you know when we’ve found the person who did it.” 

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “Look after yourself, Fox, please?” 

“I always do,” he assured, patting your head a final time before disappearing out the door. 

You turned back to the Gunmen, grinning, hoping that your fangs weren’t showing, and by the lack of shock and horror on their faces, you knew they weren’t. “I’m sorry I haven’t seen you guys in so long.” 

Langly was the one to speak up, shrugging and offering a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. We get it - you don’t have to worry.” 

“Yeah,” Byers agreed with a nod. “It’s nice to see you, anyways.” 

“But, do you wanna tell us what’s going on?” Frohike asked with a slight frown, not wanting to admit it, but knowing that he was worried for your safety. 

You shrugged, swallowing thickly and holding Byers’ gaze, able to feel yourself physically relax and even brighten up a bit, you had remembered Fox saying something about how, when werewolves stared at people they loved, it would release oxytocin, and you wondered, now, if that was correct. “There was a murder where I live, and it… it looks like I could’ve done it, but Fox knows that it wasn’t me, but he can’t testify my innocence til he catches who actually did it, so… he wants me in protective custody until he can.” 

The Gunmen seemed to take your answer for gold, but only Byers dared to step forward, gingerly taking your hand as he swallowed thickly and tried to steady the shaking of his own fingertips. “We’ll protect you, don’t worry.” 

_ It’s you I’m worried about keeping safe,  _ you thought, but you tried to push it from your mind as you dared to smile, a little uneasy and worried, nodding. “Thanks, but, uh… I’m kinda tired, so I think I might go have a shower and then go to bed, if that’s alright?” 

“We’ll be down here if you need us,” Frohike told you with a nod and a kind smile. 

Byers was a little reluctant to let go, worried and anxious on your behalf, but he soon nodded and gave your hand a little squeeze as his breath hitched in his throat. “Your room’s the second one on the left.” 

“Thanks.” 

『••✎••』

“Glad you got your boyfriend back?” Langly teased as he sat at the kitchen table with his computer. 

Byers rolled his eyes, hunching over the newspaper he was reading as he sighed. “He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“No, right, of course not,” Frohike chuckled as he joined his partners at the table. “That’s why you spent so long hugging, because you’re just friends.” 

“We are just friends,” Byers mumbled, his heart cracking a little at the fact that he knew all too well that you would never love him, that you would never see him the way he saw you, and while he was content with being just friends, he did wish for more. “Just friends. Nothing more.” 

“We’re only joking, Byers,” Langly reassured. “We know that you and (y/n) are just friends, you’ve always been close.” 

Byers didn’t answer, staring at the newspaper in front of him and pretending as if he was engrossed in the words, but he didn’t read a damn thing, his head swimming; he could still feel you wrapped around him, the scent of dewdrops and mud had been so strong on you but it was like the scent of home, the warmth he shared with you reminded him of home. All he wanted was to be back in your embrace. All he wanted was to be holding you and to be held by you. You almost knocked him off of his feet, and he had to bite back his smile as he thought of it, how you tackled him and left him no time to steady himself as you held him so tightly. He wanted to feel that again. He wanted that close contact again. He wanted to be able to feel you nuzzling into him as he buried his face against your neck. 

“Byers!” Frohike’s voice made him jump as he looked at his partner. “Were you even listening?” 

Clearing his throat, Byers closed the newspaper, and tried to push you from his mind as he shook his head. “Sorry, I was just caught up in my reading.” 

Frohike adjusted his glasses, shaking his head. “We were gonna order a take-out, do you wanna go and check if (y/n) wants anything?” 

“Uh,” Byers nodded, clumsily rising out of his chair. “Sure.” 

Getting out of the kitchen and up the stairs was easy, but knocking on your door seemed like a mammoth task as Byers tried to work up the nerve, but eventually, he gently knocked before opening the door and looking in; you were spread out on the bed, wide awake and staring at the floor. But you quickly looked up and smiled. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” he spoke so softly as he moved to sit beside you, his hands in his lap as he tried to look anywhere but at you. “Uh, the guys were talking about getting some food and wanted, they wanted to know if you want anything?” 

You grumbled as you moved to lay your head in his lap, looking up at him with a daft smile, lovestruck clouds in your puppy-dog eyes. Your stomach growled loudly. “Sounds good, yeah… what are we gonna get?” 

“I’m not sure yet,” Byers admitted with a soft chuckle. “I think they’re waiting on you to decide.” 

You let out a groan as you stretched and sat upright, sighing when you laid your head on his shoulder and placed your hand over his, looking up at him as you bit at your lip. “Fuck… do I have to?” 

Byers flipped his hand over slowly, his palm against yours before he dared to make the move of interlinking his fingers with yours, holding on gently but firmly as he shrugged. “I think so.” 

“You can decide,” you growled softly, tilting your head up slightly so that you could get a whiff of his scent, which made your muscles lose their tension as you closed your eyes. “You know what I like, can’t you decide?” 

“C- come downstairs with me,” he replied quietly, “we can take a look together.” 

“Could you carry me?” You joked, hungry but not so much so that you would give up spending time with Byers, not so much that you would give up any contact with him. 

“I could try, but I, uh, I don’t think I’d do very well,” he tittered, giving your hand a soft squeeze. “C’mon, you need to eat.” 

You waited for Byers to stand up, your hand still in his, you only dared to stand up again when he tugged at your hand, and only dared to let go once you were out of your room; you walked closely behind him, too close for it to be seen as just two friends walking down the stairs and through the hallway into the kitchen. 

“How you doing?” Frohike asked when he saw you walking behind Byers. “You feeling okay?” 

You shrugged, frowning a little and wishing to have your hand clasped in Byers’ once more. “I’m good, y’know, just tired… and hungry like the wolf.” 

Byers allowed you to sit on his lap, not enough chairs at the table for all of you to sit down, and he was more than happy about the close contact, his hand on your thigh, the other around your waist as he looked over your shoulder to read the menu that Frohike had pulled from his pocket. 

You studied it for a moment before making your mind up, and once Byers had decided, you passed the menu along to Langly; it was easy and simple, even easier to call up to ask about delivery, but it was hard to sit on Byers’ lap without shaking, without whining softly and nuzzling into him, it was hard to act as if it had no effect on you, as if his presence both excited and relaxed you, as if looking into his eyes didn’t make you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside and destroy every ounce of stress you had, as if you weren’t constantly holding back the changing of your teeth when you were around him.  _ Fuck.  _

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Bugger, shit, wank, fuck.  _

『••✎••』

The food was good, and you certainly enjoyed watching a film with the Gunmen afterwards, but as you laid in your bed, wearing just a plain grey zip-up hoodie and red plaid pyjama trousers, you could not bring it in yourself to sleep, thoughts of Byers swarming your head as you fidgeted and wriggled and grumbled and whined; but when you heard the faint sound of papers shuffling, you knew that someone was awake in the house, and you felt as if you finally weren’t alone. Hunched over slightly and quietly padding towards the sound, you noticed that Byers’ door was open, and the light was on.

“How come you’re not in bed?” You asked, standing in the doorway and offering a small wave when Byers, confused and somewhat shocked, flinched and looked at you. 

Shaking his head, he shrugged, turning his attention back to his computer as you sat beside him on the floor, your legs crossed and your elbows on your knees as you laid your hands on the cold, grey, laminate. 

“I just had some work to do,” Byers sighed, swallowing thickly as he ran a hand through his hair and stared at the screen for a second before looking over at you and frowning. “Why are you up?” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted with a shrug. “Can I help with your work?” 

You and Byers both knew that you weren't exactly the best at reading graphs and statistics, but even still, he budged over slightly and offered a kind smile; the Gunmen's latest piece was about a drug that was being funded by the government and was resulting in some awful and traumatic experiences for those who took it, and that meant reading through a lot of dates and times and finding out exactly what the government was up to, as well as looking at graphs and percentages for proof. 

"Uh, sure, do you want to look at the testimonials of the victims, or would you prefer to read the graphs?" 

You shrugged, so close that, in order to grab a piece of paper, you had to link your arm with his; but Byers didn't mind, finding solace in your touch as he relaxed and leaning into you as he typed away at the computer. 

"This one," you threw the paper onto the keyboard. "Look." 

Byers studied it for a moment, before furrowing his brows and humming lowly. "What about it?" 

"This bit," you pointed to a spike in the steadily climbing line. "The sudden spike… what does it mean?" 

Carefully, calmly, slowly and clearly, Byers explained what the spike had meant and why it wasn't actually all that important, but when he caught a glimpse of how dejected and embarrassed you looked, he leaned in to kiss your cheek, telling you that all was well and fine; he even chuckled when you stiffened up and softly laughed, using your free hand to rub the back of your neck. But now you were biting your lip, feeling as if you were straddling the line between discord and rhyme, there was no hunt to be had, yet the beating of your heart told you otherwise, fast and harsh and loud as if you were chasing after something. 

Growing tired, you laid your head on Byers' shoulder, closing your eyes and only daring to murmur when he asked if you were alright, he didn't have the heart to move you, letting you sleep soundly against him as he did his best to continue his work; when you shivered after moving to lie down with your head in his lap, he shrugged off his blazer, and draped it over your shoulders, running his hand down the side of your head softly before letting his fingers rest on your shoulder. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew that he could get used to this; he knew that he could get used to you sleeping on him, murmuring his name softly with a certain melody that made him smile whenever he dared to move. 

『••✎••』

Days went by like that, stuck in the routine of eating, sleeping, watching the television, hanging out with the Lone Gunmen, helping them with their latest project, their newest article, and you had mostly forgotten the fact that you were supposed to be in protective custody for your own safety; but tonight was the night you had been dreading.

The full moon. 

The full moon that would turn you into a monster the second it came out. 

You had been dreading it, knowing that they would see you as some sort of heinous, insideous, monster to be put down, fuck, what would Byers think of you if he knew? 

You needed to sneak out, to go where they wouldn't find you until you could return, and although you felt guilty, a pit forming in your knotted stomach, you still managed to climb out of the window and down the side of the house, you still managed to run off into the local woods without so much as a goodbye to anyone; and maybe it was better that way, to be alone. 

Shifting was painful during the full moon. 

Your jaws became long and filled with sharp, curved, lengthy teeth, gums bleeding from the process; the bones in your spine cracked and snapped as they coiled and forced you down onto your hands and knees in the dirt. Your legs moved, becoming shorter and more canine, the same with your arms; bones crunching and cracking in the dead of the woods. The worst was always the hands and feet, the way your fingers and toes curled as the bones broke apart to become paws. Dripping with blood and already only able to whine and howl in protest, you could taste blood on your tongue. The head was never so bad as the rest of it, but it still hurt when your ears became pointed and large, it still hurt when your face changed to a muzzle, a tail sprouting out of your lower back, the tailbone itself extending and becoming useful at last. Fur sprouting all over your body, shooting up out of your skin like a thousand tiny needles that left small droplets of blood in their wake from piercing through layers of thin tissue. A million little paper cuts all over your body. Brown and grey fur all over your body, your legs a pale grey, yellow eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. Blood dripped from your mouth as you let out a few pants before tilting your head up to look at the sky; the silvery moon sat on its lonely throne, and all you could do, was a sing a sad and lonely string of howls before taking off into the darkness. A run through the woods, kicking up dark brown mud and oak coloured clay, the cold air in your fur, the sound of the foxes calling and the wind singing amongst the foliage.

『••✎••』

"Hey, has anyone seen (y/n)?" Langly asked as he sat at the kitchen table, looking between Frohike and Byers. 

Frohike shook his head, cleaning his glasses on his shirt. "Not since last night… Byers?" 

Furrowing his brows, Byers shook his head, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he started to worry, his heart already starting to beat faster and harder, his eyes already going wide. "No, I… I haven't…" 

The three shared an uneasy look, but it was Frohike who spoke up, clearing his throat. "Mulder's gonna kick our asses if we lose him." 

"Well… we could always look around town," Byers shrugged, his voice breaking a little, a slight stutter in his words. "But… we, we should still tell Mulder." 

"Byers is right," Langly admitted with a nod. "I mean, if someone finds out (y/n)'s here and decides to… y'know, put him down…" 

The thought alone made Byers a little more desperate to find you, not that he could let that fact come to light, not that he could admit to it without giving away how he felt about you. He needed to find you, he needed to know that you were fine, that you weren't hurt, that you weren't off crying somewhere, he needed to know that you were going to be alright; he needed to find you, if only to ensure that you weren't hurt. It made him sick to his stomach when he thought about what could happen; would the murderer find you? Would they kill you if they did? Would someone harm you? Would someone put you in the hospital after beating you senseless? Would you get in trouble somewhere? Hit by a car? Fallen off a bridge? Drowned in a puddle? 

So many scenarios were running through Byers' head as he tried to steady himself, able to feel his hands shaking as he folded his arms across his chest and sighed, he could feel his head start to spin, his stomach churning, his chest right and hardly able to breathe. He was drowning. 

『••✎••』

They checked the shops, they searched the woods, they asked local pub landlords and shop owners, they combed the small village for any scrap of evidence to point to where you were, but it all seemed hopeless; nobody had seen or heard anything, not so much as a whistle. Even with all the good lucks and the well wishes, the Lone Gunmen felt lost in their search; Byers was walking on the inside of the pavement, his hands in his pockets as he kept his gaze to the ground and wondered if something had really happened to you, it was more than he could stand, that much was for sure. Langly was in the middle, still keeping his head up in hopes that there would be somewhere they had not yet searched. 

And as luck had had it, he spotted a farm.

"We didn't check over there," he shouted over the roaring cars on the main road, pointing over to the farmland. "We could split up, cover more ground." 

Byers looked up, blue eyes filled with hope as he nodded. "Yeah, we could… if we all split up at one end, we could meet at the other." 

"It's the only place we haven't checked," Langly shrugged. "Frohike?" 

"It's worth a shot," he looked up at his partners and nodded. "Let's do it." 

Although it seemed far, the entrance to the farm was surprisingly close, just down a small dirt trail and through a small stretch of grass; the trio split up at the gate, Byers going right and Frohike going left and Langly going right down the middle. 

Hopping the poultry's fence, Langly called out for you, wading through the sea of brown and black and white and red feathers, careful not to step on any of the poor birds; he clasped his hands around his mouth, calling out name time and time again as he walked through the farmland. He was just about to turn around and call it quits when he noticed something behind the henhouse. 

"(y/n)?" 

Something white and bigger than it should have been stepped out on flat orange feet, letting out a hiss and stretching out its great white wings, hissing and waddling towards Langly; the goose was faster, nipping at his heels and honking loudly, chasing him around the enclosure, just waiting until Langly slipped and fell in the mud, waiting for its opportunity as it honked and hissed and flapped its large wings and stamped its orange feet, waddling around with an attitude that could scare even a hardened criminal… but that was until Langly managed to hop the fence again, sighing with relief that the goose could not get over. It stood hissing and honking on the other side of the chicken wire. The bird paused at the fence, still hissing and honking and flapping its large wings, its neck extended upwards as it made as much noise as possible, warning Langly to never come back, to never even think of stepping foot in its territory again… or else. 

Clambering over the fence, Frohike looked around for you, only able to see fluffy dirty-white sheep, brown and black goats, and black and white and brown cows with large horns that wandered around the paddock, grazing and not really bothering to look over at him; he was a little uneasy as he walked past the animals, clearing his throat and daring to shout out for you. The animals didn’t even bother to move around him, staying stood still as they chewed at the grass and snuffled in the mud; the sheep would bleet every now and then when a goat came too close, which made Frohike jump at the sudden loud noise, causing him to lose his footing and tumble backwards, he had to grip onto a large brown cow when he nearly slipped on the mud and fell straight into it, thankfully staying upright, but thanks only to the ungulate, which didn't even seem to notice as she bowed her head and continued to chew at the grass. 

"You haven't seen (y/n) have you?" 

The cow didn't even look at him, simply letting out a huff and flicking her tail to keep away a fly that dared to try and bother her. Frohike frowned, letting go of her horns and ensuring he had his footing again.

"Thanks." 

In the far field, Byers was calling out your name so much and so loudly that it was making his chest and throat hurt, out of breath as he called and called and called; but when he saw what looked like a man draped over a small bale of hay, his feet kicked into gear, hitting the ground running until he drew close enough to realise it was you. He paused, eyes wide and filled with tears as he looked at you; shirtless and covered in bruises and scratches, your arms splattered with dried blood, the same red liquid dripping from your open mouth, staining the yellow hay beneath your head. You were breathing, but definitely looked like you had been through the wars. 

"Ah, fuck," you hissed, trying to move and letting out a quiet howl in protest. "Fuck…" 

Unsure what to do, Byers made a reach for your hand, holding it tightly, giving it a little squeeze as he cleared his throat and tried to work up the nerve to say something, to be reassuring. "(y/n), it's me." 

You opened one eye, licking blood from your lips. "John Fitzgerald Byers?" 

"I'm here," Byers nodded, squeezing your hand again, but when you tried to sit up and to move, he gently pushed you back down, careful not to agitate the wounds. "I've got you. It's okay. Relax." 

"John…" you grumbled, weakly laying your hand on top of his as you dared to open your other eye, a bloody smile stretching onto your lips. 

"I'm here," he whispered. "What happened?" 

"Forget it," you growled, shaking your head. "It's nothing." 

How could you tell him? How could you look the man you cared so much about in the eyes, and tell him that you were a monster? How could you tell Byers that, every full moon, you became a beast that haunted fairy tales for centuries? How could you? He would look at you differently, he would think you were a monster, he would hate you, scorn you, scold you, berate you, he would never want to see you again, he would never want to even think of you ever again. So how could you tell him? 

Slipping back into a hazy dream, you swallowed thickly, and thanked exhaustion for taking over and preventing you from letting it slip. 

But the Gunmen still managed to get you home, they allowed you to sleep for a couple of hours before Byers sat down with you in the kitchen; his chair directly opposite yours as he looked at your wounds; most of them were superficial, thankfully, just bite marks from brambles, but he couldn't tell you that Fox Mulder was in the living room with Frohike and Langly, that they had called him out shortly before leaving to look for you. Although shaky, Byers’ hands were careful as he did his best to cause as little pain as possible while wiping down the scratches on your chest, every wince made him swallow thickly, every seethe made his hands shake more, every growl and grunt and groan and grumble of pain made him pull away and ask if you were alright, ask if you needed a break or a drink, some painkillers to dull it; but you always said no, you always refused a way to dull the pain, as although it was stinging and left your chest feeling raw and open, the most pain was in your mouth - holding back fangs was a tough challenge at the best of times, let alone when you were having your chest wiped down with antiseptic wipes by the one person you wished to be able to be with every day. It was a pain at the best of times, let alone when his fingertips were on your skin, making your breath hitch, let alone when he got so scared at the thought of hurting you that he apologised profusely for each little wipe of alcoholic tissue, all you wanted to do was to hold his hand and tell him not to worry, tell him that you would heal up soon enough, that before he could even look, those scratches would be gone as if nothing ever happened, as if the dried blood that stuck to your skin and your hair was nothing more than dewdrops; you could feel the blood starting to build up on your gums, threatening to drop as you continued to try and hold back the teeth, hold back the stretching and the sharpening - you were doing your best, you really were, because you knew all too well what would happen if you told Byers. 

Abandonment. Scorn. Isolation. Hurt. Broken hearts. A kicked dog thrown out onto the street. A monster forced into the woods. A lover without a heart. 

So, you kept to looking at him, gazing at him as he concentrated so hard on making sure that every scratch had been wiped down before he even thought of putting plasters over them, his brows furrowed, his lips turned into a frown, cyan eyes hiding pain and worry behind a thick layer of focus and concentration; his fingertips were still trembling, even when he smoothed down the final plaster, he was still shaking when he met your gaze. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, taking your hand gently and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, not noticing the way you clenched your jaw and let out a grumble from your chest. You really hoped he wouldn’t find that one. “(Y/N)?” 

“Dandy,” you said through clenched teeth, a slight growl in your voice as you tried to focus on hoping that the blood didn’t seep onto his skin, but when Byers pulled his hand away, he swallowed thickly and shook his head. 

“Why didn’t you-” 

“It’s fine,” you did your best to reassure, but when he gently gripped your wrist and turned your hand over to have a look, you frowned. “John, trust me, it’s fine, don’t worry about it, it-” 

“Let me patch it up,” he said gently, looking close to tears, clouds in his blue eyes that threatened to start raining. “Please?” 

You sighed heavily, nodding reluctantly. Sure, you were in pain, and you didn’t want him to know that, you didn’t want him to worry, but even still, you could never say no to him, time and time again, you could never say no; you could never bear the thought of hurting him by acting like everything was fine when he knew very well it wasn’t. “Fine.” 

Byers was careful as he reached for an antiseptic wipe, keeping his gaze on you as he gently wiped at the gash on the palm of your hand, staining the once white wipe orange and red as he tenderly tried to wipe away the clotted blood, the fresh blood, and the dirt; his fingertips ghosted yours with each time he softly dragged the stinging cloth along the wound. He kept stopping to lay his hand on your thigh to let you know that he wasn’t going to hurt you, that he would never dream of doing so. 

“I was so worried,” he whispered, using a second wipe now, and doing his best to make sure that it wasn’t stinging too much, that it wasn’t hurting. “I thought you’d gotten hurt, or worse, or you were in trouble… good grief, I was so worried…” 

You hoped that your fangs weren’t out as you met his gaze and sighed, shaking your head and blinking slowly. “Why? I mean… shit… I mean, I’m not exactly important, John.” 

“You are,” he murmured, putting the bloody antiseptic wipe aside and grabbing a bandage. “To me, you are.” 

You scoffed, shaking your head as he gently wrapped your hand in the bandage, sure, he was far from a doctor like Scully, but he was doing his best, and although he knew that it was a little clumsy, he knew that it would do, that it was good enough; when he turned your hand over again, it was to tie the bandage up to make sure that it wouldn’t slip, and he swallowed thickly as he frowned. 

“It’s not too tight, is it?” 

“No,” you answered, shaking your head, still caught up on the fact that he said that you were important to him; you, of all people, you, a monster, were important to him. You were important to him, which made the fact that you couldn’t tell him what you were that much harder, that much more painful; you were important to him, which meant that you could never tell him. You could never hurt him like that. “It’s fine… thanks…” 

Byers stayed silent, only daring to nod curtly as his gaze drifted down to your lips for a moment, as he did his best not to lean in and to kiss you softly, it would have been a bold move, it would have been a stupid move, it would have been an incredibly stupid move. But he wanted to, and from the way you looked down at his lips, he grew flustered, the tips of his ears turning pink and his cheeks burning, a pink haze on his features. Did you want him as much as he wanted you? Did you feel the same way about him? No, it was impossible - you would never see Byers as anything but a friend, and he knew that, he knew that you would never see him the way he saw you. You would never want to get into a romance with him, not in a blue moon. 

No. You would never feel for him the way he felt for you. So it was best he didn’t even try. 

Pulling back, Byers cleared his throat, smiling uneasily. “You’re all done, you can, uh, you can go, now.” 

The scent of antiseptic was fading, leaving you to smell aftershave and cologne that made your fangs come out before you could even try to stop them; a smell so familiar that you could not help the sudden change as you grinned. 

Frozen up, Byers’ eyes widened as his breath hitched, confused and startled to see that your teeth had grown, that they had been replaced by large and sharp canines that were clearly able to tear through even the harshest of materials; he wasn’t scared, though, he could never be scared of you, but he was shocked, startled, surprised, to see the sudden fangs as you raised your head a little to sniff the air. 

“Fox is here.” You stated, but when you saw Byers, you held your breath, frowning and hanging your head.

He had seen. 

He had seen them. 

Fuck, how could you be so stupid? 

『••✎••』

You stared out of your window as you cursed yourself, the room slightly darker thanks to your door being closed, darker with the light off, you could see everything happening on the street, you could see every droplet of rain that coursed down the glass outside; you were so stupid, so goddamn fucking stupid - how could you let Byers see your fangs like that? Why didn’t you stop yourself? Why couldn’t you control yourself? 

He was probably scared of you, now, he probably thought that all this time you had been sizing him up to hurt him, to kill him; he probably thought you were a monster, you were a heinous, insidious, awful, grotesque, vile monster. You had scared Byers, you had hurt him, you could never see him again, you could never talk to anyone again; even when Fox knocked on your door to try and speak to you, your only answer was a growled “fuck off”. 

Isolation was your only friend, now, isolation would be the only way you could continue, that you could deal with this. Isolation was for the best. 

Even when Frohike and Langly came to offer food, a laugh, to spend some time together downstairs, you refused; even when they came to check up on you and offer a shoulder to cry on, you refused. You refused everything and everyone. 

Fuck, you were certainly an idiot. 

Shit, you could never look anyone in the eyes again. 

God, they were probably planning on a way to get rid of you right now. 

The door creaked open, the sweet smell of aftershave wafted into the room, followed by slightly out of fashion cologne, and strong coffee. Byers. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around, couldn't force yourself to face him as you continued to stare out of the window, sighing heavily. 

“I want to apologise.” He said softly, his hands clasped in front of him as he cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean… I’m not scared.” 

“Why not?” You asked, growling and not even turning around to face him. “You’d have every right to be - you’re in a house with a monster, John…” 

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” he whispered, coming to stand beside you and leaning his forearms on the windowsill, watching the quickest droplets of rain slide down outside, watching as the rain bounced off of the pavement. “I really don't.”

You scoffed, leaning your chin on your wrists as you rolled your eyes. “Please.” 

Frowning, Byers looked down at you and did his best not to lay his hand on the back of your neck, he knew how much you had always liked it when he gently ran his fingers up and down the skin there, but he knew not to right now. “I’m being honest - I don’t see you any differently now than I did before I saw your teeth change… you’re still the same (Y/n) to me.” 

You glared at him out of the corner of your eye, shaking your head and grumbling lowly, grumbling from your chest. “It’s not just the teeth, John.” 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he reassured, only now daring to place his hand at the back of your neck, his thumb moving up and down gently and tenderly. “I don’t need to know anything you don’t want to tell me.” 

You sighed, standing upright and clicking your neck as you stretched, licking the blood from your gums after you had forced your canines to stay put, preventing them from showing up again. “You sure? It’s, uh, it’s not exactly pretty and perfect, John.” 

“I’m sure,” he nodded. “If you want to tell me… if you don’t, I can live without knowing.” 

You ran a hand down your face, grumbling again as you sat up on the windowsill and frowned, thinking about how to tell him; how exactly do you look the person you love in the eyes and tell him that, every full moon, you change into something completely different? How do you look the person you love in the eyes and tell him that you are the big bad wolf? There were no handbooks on this stuff, no articles in Cosmopolitan that told you how to do it, there were no guidelines on how a werewolf was supposed to look the man he loved in the eyes and tell him that; you were in uncharted territory, you were lost in no man’s land, abandoned in the middle of the woods with no light to guide you home, there were no maps to read to get home, it wasn’t as if you could just say it - you didn’t even know where or how you were to begin telling him, you didn’t even know how to sit properly, fidgeting and shuffling on the windowsill, every single position seeming to be uncomfortable after a few seconds. You could feel your heart threatening to burst out of your chest, pounding harshly against its prison made of bone, screaming loudly, running back and forth as quickly as it could. Your hands were shaking, palms going clammy with sweat that seeped into the cut on your palm, making you wince as you did your best not to let out a loud whine and bare your fangs; everything seemed to fall away as you looked Byers in the eyes, feeling lost within the cyan, feeling like you were going to drown the second you opened your mouth, knowing that he would drop and abandon you the second you told him - no matter what reassurances he gave, you knew he would leave. And you couldn’t blame him, either, after all, who would love a monster? Who would love a monster that didn’t belong? When he deserved someone better, someone normal. 

Noticing the glow in your eyes, Byers smiled as he reached for your hand and held it tightly in his own, his fingers interlocked with yours as he gave it a little squeeze and pressed his forehead to your shoulder, trying to be as reassuring as possible. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

“I’m just not sure on how to word it,” you admitted with a sigh, shaking your head and wishing you were smarter, maybe then, you would have been able to tell him, maybe then you would have been able to be brave enough to find the right words to admit to it. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, John, I just… I’m not sure how to say it.” 

“Say what first comes into your head,” he said softly. 

“I’m a werewolf,” you were expecting him to pull away with shock, to scorn and shout at you, to refuse to ever see you again and wish you dead, to bid to see you in Hell… but he didn’t. He just pulled you down from the windowsill gently, and wrapped his arms around you like he did when you were first reunited. You clung onto him tightly, your arms around his waist as you let out a soft whine of his name; Byers let out a soft chuckle, he held you tightly, he stayed quiet, smiling to himself as he buried his face against your neck, closing his eyes as he moved one hand up to the back of your head, keeping you close as you nuzzled into him. This was all he wanted - to be close to you, to be able to hold you and to love you, and he really did wish that the circumstances were different. He truly did. He wished the sorrow would fade, he wished the fear from your eyes would go away, he wished you would stop being so scared of him. He truly did wish that you had never been so scared to tell him, nothing about the way he saw you changed, he didn’t think less of you, he didn’t think that your soul was black as if you had turned your back upon good, he just thought that you were the only person he had ever loved so much, he just thought that you were the best man he had had the pleasure of meeting, he just thought that you were his favourite person to be alone with and to waste time with. He just thought he loved you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whined with a cracking voice, pulling away and looking at him in very much the same manner as a dog looked at its master after being kicked, as if you had just sold your soul to the devil to make a deal. “I’m so sorry, I- if you want to leave, if you want to scorn me and shout and scream and scold and-” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Byers replied softly, “not now, not ever, not as long as I can help it. I promise, love is the only danger here, love meaning me, love meaning you - the only danger is one of getting hurt because of someone else.” 

You frowned, nodding and looking away from him, looking anywhere but in his eyes, for you knew you would be lost if you did. “You know who I am… but… would you take me as I am? Would you mind me disappearing in the dead of night during a full moon? Would you… would you still be there if I went too far?” 

Byers nodded back, smiling with a slight dampening of sadness. “Give me your hand, (y/n), give me your heart…” he waited for you to give up your hand to him before he continued, “I swear, we will never part. I know who you are, and you know who I am and… good grief, would you take me as I am? When despair tears me in two, and the only person I can turn to… is you?” 

In his eyes, you could see it, you could feel how your heart longed and yearned to be with his, in the gentle glow of your eyes, he could see that he would be safe, and that your heart would be safe with him; in Byers’ arms, close to his heart, you knew you could be forever safe and sound… but you didn’t know quite where to start - even if, by looking into his eyes, you could see beyond tomorrow. You could see a white picket fence, a house in the suburbs with a big enough garden for a dog and a lawn out front, you could see food fights in the kitchen and sweet kisses at the door, you could see matching wedding bands, you could see a picture of you both in wedding suits on the mantle while the fire burned below and lit up the room, you could see spending cold nights on the rug in front of the fire. You could see far beyond tomorrow. 

“I will take you as you are, John,” you murmured, licking your lips and letting out a harsh sigh. “I will always take you as you are.” 

“So why is it so hard for you to accept that-” he cut himself off in order to clear his throat, to stop himself from choking on his own words, “to accept that I’d do the same?” 

“I could lose control, and that I dread,” you whispered in order to stop yourself from letting your voice crack and break, facturing words in your throat. “What if I hurt you?” 

“You wouldn’t,” Byers shook his head, he knew that you would never do such a thing, lack of control or not, he knew that you would never hurt him, just as he would never even dream of hurting you. “I know you wouldn’t… I love you, (y/n).” 

“John…” you swallowed thickly, not sure how to say those three words, not sure if you wanted to, because you knew that, if you did, and if you ever hurt him, then it would hurt that much more; you took in a long and deep breath, chewing at the inside of your cheek before smiling and allowing yourself to relax. “I love you, too.” 

『••✎••』

The interrogation room was small and cramped, it stank of stale cigarettes and cheap coffee, the single light overhead, attached to the ceiling by a wire that seemed far too thin to be able to hold it, the walls were a dark grey with matching ceilings and floors, and the singular window on the right was dirty and nearly brown with dust; as Fox sat opposite the killer, he could hardly control his anger, and the person before him was just lucky that Dana was stood by the door with her arms folded, making sure that Fox didn’t go too far. 

“What’s the matter, Agent Mulder?” They grinned, sickly and sadistic as they toyed with the remains of a cigarette. “Scared that the big, bad, wolf isn’t here to protect you?” 

Fox clenched his jaw, looking at Dana from the corner of his eye before turning back to the killer, he leaned on the wobbling table with his forearms, shaking his head. “What’s your problem with (y/n)?” 

Their grin somehow grew as they sat back in their chair, kicking their legs up onto the table and letting out a dark chuckle, nearly cackling and howling with laughter. “I know his little secret, Agent, and it’s perfect for me to use.” 

“Why?” Fox hissed, narrowing his eyes and tensing up. “You son of a bitch, tell me why!” 

“Temper, temper,” they scoffed with another soulless laugh. “I just want what’s rightfully mine, that’s all.” 

“What would that be?” Fox asked, his breathing starting to get heavier as his temper flared. 

The killer shrugged, finally putting the cigarette out in the ashtray and humming as they ran a hand through their hair. “Revenge… if someone wronged you in secondary school, would you not want the same, Agent? Would you not want to watch him pay the price? Would you not want that filthy dog to be put down for the shit that he did?” 

Dana stepped forward now, leaning on the table and staring down the killer, her voice even despite her urge to shout and to lose her temper. “What exactly did (y/n) do to you to warrant this?” 

“He broke my leg after I called him something he didn’t like,” they scoffed, shaking their head again and laying their hand on Dana’s. “I was the football champion, darling, and that fucking cunt ruined my chances of going professional - I could’ve been better than Denis Irwin, but that little fucking bastard went and ruined all my chances. So, I wanna see him pay. I want him to know what it’s like to have everything you’ve ever worked for, everything you’ve ever fucking wanted, ripped away from you.” 

Dana shared a look with Fox, who excused himself in order to make a phone call; he had to send a warning, he had to let the Gunmen know that the real killer had been apprehended, and what their motives were. There was hope in him, though, there was hope that the judicial system would do what it needed to, and that the killer would be put away for a very long time after today, there was hope that you would be able to come out of the woods, so to speak. 

“It seems like a lot of work for revenge for a broken leg,” Dana said, keeping calm, keeping her temper down. 

The killer grinned, leaning forward and swiping their tongue along their bottom lip. “You have no fucking idea.” 

『••✎••』

You and Byers were out on the town, enjoying one another’s company, your arm linked with his and your head resting against his shoulder, you could see the stars above had been dressed as glittering and freshly polished diamonds, with the moon sat up on its throne with a wide grin, the air was cold and crisp, but with Byers’ blazer around your shoulders, you didn’t feel the chill so much. Staying close to him, you couldn’t believe how much the world had changed within a day, you couldn’t believe how much more relaxed you were now that he knew of your little secret, now that you could finally admit to loving him the entire time; it was as if every single weight that was on your shoulders had lightened, as if you could finally breathe again. 

“(y/n) Byers doesn’t sound so bad, y’know,” you mused, looking up at him with a slight grin. “But neither does John Fitzgerald (y/l/n), if I’m honest.” 

Blushing, Byers returned your gaze with a soft and nervous chuckle; would he ever tell you about what he always dreamed of? There were so many nights when he dared to dream about the white picket fence life; a house in the suburbs with a big back garden, a dog, a lawn out front with a metal postbox that he could open every morning before going to work, food fights in the kitchen whilst making dinner, sweet goodbye and hello kisses at the door every morning and every evening, matching gold wedding bands, he often dreamed about a picture of you both in wedding suits on a marble mantle that sat above a fireplace that he could sit in front of with you during the wintery and cold nights while it burned and lit up the room; he dreamed of it so often that sometimes he woke up and wondered if it had really been real, if only for a moment, if only for a minute… but now it was possible. He could see past the horizon, now, he could see a day where all of that, and more, would be true; it would be beyond tomorrow, he knew that, maybe even beyond a few years, but the thought of spending the rest of his life with you? Nothing could compare to that. A white picket fence life with you, everything he ever dreamed of, with the man he loved. 

You pulled away from Byers abruptly, sniffing the air and letting out a low and harsh growl, those fangs coming to light as your eyes glowed in the street lamps’ shine, you stopped in your tracks, putting yourself in front of Byers with hunched shoulders and your eyes focused on the shadows in front of you; when you heard a sadistic chuckle, you snapped your jaws, ready at any moment to do what was needed. 

“Look who it is,” the killer grinned as they took a step into the light, brandishing a fine and shiny hunting knife that glittered beneath the street lamps. “The big, bad, wolf… and who’s your friend?” 

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head. “Fucking leave him out of this.” You turned your head slightly to look over at Byers, your voice softening slightly. “Go find a phone. Get Fox.” 

Byers nodded, reluctant and hesitant to leave you, but when you offered a small smile of reassurance, he put his trust in you, and went to go to the nearest payphone while you squared up to the killer. 

“Fox?” They laughed, nearly cackling and howling as they threw their head back and tutted. “Please, he was so easy to knock out it almost made me wonder who the fuck the FBI are hiring these days.” 

“What did you do to him?” You snarled, taking a step back and tilting your head; sure, you were scared, you were terrified of getting hurt, of getting knocked unconscious and not protecting Byers from the killer, you were horrified at the thought of him getting hurt because of you - and you were scared for Fox and Dana, too, scared that they were locked up and beaten up somewhere that would never be found. You were terrified. Your heart was beating thirty miles per hour, your hands trembled, and you could feel your stomach churning and twisting and knotting - but you still stood your ground. “Where’s Fox and Dana, you sack of shit?” 

The killer simply shook their head, wagging the knife at you. “They’re still alive, don’t worry. I suspect they probably will be on their way by now… but it’s not them I’m interested in, nor is your little friend. I want you, (y/n), you see, I couldn’t frame you for those murders, but I can still kill you - that’s what people do with sick animals, isn’t it? Put them down.” 

When they took a step towards you, you allowed your natural instincts to kick in, lunging at them and pinning them to the ground, snarling in their face as you struggled to take the knife from them; but just as you were about to grab it, they sank it into your side, laughing as you let out a howl of pain. 

That didn’t stop you, though, as you sank your canines into their shoulder harshly and yanked at it while they overpowered you and kicked you off; they were beginning to slowly start to bleed harshly from the deep wound as they let out a heavy breath and stood over you. 

They grabbed your leg, stamping on it until the bones let out a harsh crack, making you howl in agony once more as you struggled to gain the power to move, as you struggled to get up and fight; but they wouldn’t have it, stabbing you again - only this time, as they pulled the knife out, you bit down on their wrist, and bit through the layers of muscle and veins and tendons, their disconnected hand falling to the ground as they clutched the stub and doubled over. 

A final bite to the back of the neck, a spurt of blood on your face, and they finally caved in, dropping to the floor as you collapsed onto your back and groaned. 

Black spots were starting to form in the corners of your eyes as you struggled to stay awake, a pool of blood forming where you laid, but you still managed to smile when Byers came crashing down to his knees beside you; you groaned and growled when he put his hands on your stab wounds. 

“Hey…” 

“It’s okay,” Byers said, his voice shaking and breaking, his hands were already coated in something red and sticky that stank of metal and made him wince. “Frohike and Langly are going to be here soon, Mulder and Scully are on their way… it’s, it’s gonna be okay.” He let out a shaky sigh, whispering to himself, “good grief, please don’t leave me, (Y/n)...” 

“I heard that,” you chuckled weakly, your voice croaky and fading fast, reaching up with a frail hand to place it against his cheek, almost slipping away with a soft sigh when he leaned into your touch, blue eyes filled with pain and tears - this was not something you wanted to see. “John?” 

“Yeah?” His voice was almost as feeble as your own. 

“I love you… you know that, right?” You asked, your voice raspy and with hardly anything behind it except the stench of death. 

Byers nodded, smiling as he finally caved and allowed the tears to fall. “I know, I know - just stay… stay awake, please?” 

You closed your eyes, your hand falling limply to your side as your mouth fell open and your chest stopped rising and falling, but as Byers pressed his head against your chest, telling himself this couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening, you didn’t have enough time together, what about the white picket fence life he dreamed of with you? Just as he was beginning to think that all hope was gone, a hand was laid heavily on his shoulder, and he looked up to find Fox Mulder stood behind him. 

“Hospital, now.” Byers demanded, shaking his head. “We… we can’t-”

“Scully,” Fox’s own voice was trembling as he grabbed Byers’ shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. “Byers, Scully’s gonna take him to the hospital, he’ll…” Fox really didn’t want to say it in case it jinxed it. “He’ll be okay.” 

It was all too much for Byers, the thought of the man he loved so much being dead, and as he watched Frohike and Langly help Scully to load your lifeless body into the back of her car, all poor Byers could do was to lurch forward into Fox and allow himself to cry; even Fox couldn’t hold it back, holding tightly onto his friend’s boyfriend and letting his own misery spill out onto his shoulder. They both needed you to be okay. They both needed you to stay alive. 

『••✎••』

One month. One entire month you had been in a coma, induced by the doctors while you were unstable, for an entire month you were laid in that hospital bed; Fox and Dana came to visit, Fox left cuddly wolf toys on the bedside table, whereas Dana brought some daffodils, and when they died, she brought more; Frohike and Langly visited a lot, always asking the doctors when you could go home, when you would wake up; but Byers… Byers had been sat in that horrible navy chair every single day, he fell asleep at your bedside, he hardly ate but when he did it was at your side, he hardly left his spot there. He even worked at your side once Frohike had brought his computer down; he was the man who couldn’t be moved. And more often than not, everything he did was one handed, as he hardly wanted to let go of yours. 

For an entire month, you had been in a coma, and now… now your eyes were open, and you were begging Byers for a drink, your voice hoarse and raw and unused; he sat at the edge of the bed while he brought the plastic cup of iced water to your lips, his hands shaking slightly - he knew this day would come, he really did, even though everybody told him not to hope for it. 

“J- John,” you croaked, a weak smile on your face as you moved to try and cup his cheeks, his beard was so messy, and he looked like he had not moved for a month. “You look like shit.” 

Grinning and nodding, Byers couldn’t help but to tear up as he shrugged, his voice quiet. “So would you.” He looked over at the room’s door for a second before leaning down to kiss your forehead sweetly. “I’ll be back, I just have to go tell the doctors you’re awake.” 

“I love you!” You coarsely called after him, grinning when he mouthed the words back before disappearing out of the room and down the hallway. 

The doctors and nurses took your blood, ran some tests, and when they concluded that you were very much stable enough for visitors, Byers couldn’t stop smiling; all this time he had waited, all this time the only thing he had hoped for was for you to survive, to stay alive - and here you were, wide awake. 

You were alive. 

You were safe. 

You were drowned in affection when Frohike and Langly and Fox and Dana crowded into the room a couple of hours later. 

“How are you feeling?” Dana asked as she placed the back of her hand on your forehead. 

You rolled your eyes as you smiled. “Absolutely fine, Doctor Scully… thank you.” 

“Of course you’re feeling fine,” Fox chuckled, climbing onto the bed beside you and dangling a leg off of the edge as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, relieved beyond belief that his friend was still alive, that his friend was safe at last. “You’re the strongest person here, pup.” 

You playfully nudged Fox’s shoulder, shaking your head at him as you chuckled, your gaze immediately going over to Byers as you dared to laugh. “Get off my bed, Fox.” 

“Make me,” he teased, letting out a loud ‘oomf’ as he thudded onto the floor. 

“I made you,” you grinned. 

Frohike and Langly were the next to come over, with the latter sitting on the arm of the chair that Frohike sat in. 

Gesturing to Byers, Frohike smiled softly. “Byers here refused to leave your side, y’know.” 

Byers shrugged when you looked at him. “I just… I… I wanted to be here when you woke up.” 

“He even got a mortgage on a house,” Langly mentioned. “He saved up, and, uh… we all pitched in.” 

“You did?” You asked, looking at Byers with a somewhat shocked expression, but even he could see the way your eyes glittered. 

“I did,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and blushing a little. “I thought, you know, when you were ready we… we could move in together.” 

All eyes were on you, now, and although you didn’t really care about the extra eyes and ears, you still grinned, reaching for Byers’ hand and holding it tightly. “John, I love you, and I… I would fucking love to move in with you.” 

“I helped with the money,” came a familiar voice, one you had not heard for a long while, and when you saw Walt Skinner standing in the doorway, everyone fell silent as he stepped into the room, nodding curtly at Byers as he stopped at your beside. “How are you doing, (y/n)?” 

You looked up at Byers, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to the palm of his hand before you even thought of answering. “I’m doing good, Skinner, thank you.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Skinner said sincerely, although still somehow sounding stern. “I’m sorry this happened to you, though.” 

You shook your head, smiling a little as you stretched and yawned. “Don’t be, it’s not like you could’ve done anything.” 

“Scully, Mulder, can I speak to you two outside?” Skinner asked, gesturing for his agents to follow; he needed to tell him that their reports had been finalised, and that you would be given some money because of the nature of your injuries. But they weren’t in trouble, nobody was - this time. 

Leaning down, Byers rested his head against yours, sighing heavily. 

“So, anyways, are you two gonna get married?” Langly asked. 

“Yeah, and if so, who’s gonna be the best men?” Frohike added. 

It was going to be a long while, but with Byers at your side, what did you care? 

『••✎••』

When you were eventually let out of the hospital, Fox helped you to gather all of your things, he helped you to pack and to make sure that everything was taken out of your old home; Frohike drove the moving van, and was surprisingly very good at it; Langly and Dana and Skinner helped to get everything unpacked and put in its place; it took a week or so, in all honesty, but that was nothing to you - the time meant nothing to you as you looked at the lawn in the front garden with the metal postbox that would be opened every morning and checked, the large garden out the back that would be big enough if you ever got a dog, the kitchen was almost certainly big enough to be shared by both you and Byers - food fights whilst cooking together were an almost definite, what really got you, though, was the fireplace. 

The white marble mantle that stood proudly, the logfire that would, without a doubt, light up the entire room on a cold wintery night. 

And as you turned to Byers, all you could do was to grab him and pull him into a tight hug; immediately, Byers wrapped his arms around you like he had done so many times, now, including when you were first reunited. You clung onto him tightly in return, your arms around his waist as you let out a soft whine of his name; Byers let out a soft chuckle, he held you tightly, he stayed quiet, smiling to himself as he buried his face against your neck, closing his eyes as he moved one hand up to the back of your head, keeping you close as you nuzzled into him. 

“John?” You murmured, not even thinking about pulling away as you let your voice be muffled by his shoulder. 

“Yeah?” His own voice was muffled, vibrating on your skin and making you stamp your foot as you laughed softly, which in turn, caused him to laugh, too. 

“I fucking love you.” 


	2. Night of The Werewolf

Months. Months had passed and gone by in complete and utter domestic bliss. Months had gone by with the only problem being little things here and there - broken shelves, dropped glasses, leaky taps. Just little things that were more of an inconvenience than a problem, really, and it was only little things you ever had to worry about, it was only ever the little things that got in the way; but even with those little things, even with all of those small and mild inconveniences, life was good, life was… far from perfect, granted, but you wouldn't have had it any other way. Not when you were finally sharing a life with the one person that you would ever love and want to be with. Not when, every morning, you were able to kiss Byers and to hold him for a few short moments before he had to wake up and leave, not when, every evening, he would come home and drown you in all the kisses he had saved for you and all the embraces he had waited to give you; not when Byers was right by your side… no, life was good with Byers at your side. Even if everybody said that domestic bliss would never last, you were determined to make the absolute most of it; everybody said that that domestic bliss would soon fade, but that never stopped you from making the most of every single little second, every kiss was cherished, every embrace was treasured, every sweet nothing whispered in the dead of night and the crack of dawn was savoured and saved. Food fights in the kitchen had been a commonplace, usually started by you trying to steal a bite of something long before it was ready, filling the room with laughter and regret when you finally realised how messy it had been, when you finally realised what a catastrophe every single little crumb that had been thrown had made, but you didn’t mind so much - even if Byers did grumble at the state of the kitchen each time - and you knew that he knew that it was all in good fun… especially when he ended up with something on his lips, which always gave you the perfect excuse to steal a kiss or two or three or several; whenever he had the time, Byers would agree to watch a film or two with you on the sofa, his face buried in the back of your neck as he hardly concentrated on the screen, lost in the feel of you in his arms, even if you did quite often make his right arm go numb where he had it beneath you, lost in your scent, that constant smell of woods and trees and damp leaves that you could never wash off, lost in the way you squirmed into his embrace as much as possible - personal space wasn’t a word in your dictionary - and turned over to bury your face into his chest when there was something that scared you. Whenever Byers couldn’t sleep, too wrapped up in his work, too busy typing away at his computer in an attempt to write the latest article for the paper, you always stayed at his side, your head on his lap as you grumbled and clung onto him, you always pointed out spelling mistakes that escaped him, you always kept him company through those long nights; and in return, he did the same. When nights came that you couldn’t sleep, insomnia having always been an old friend, especially during the nights leading up to a full moon, plagued by restlessness, Byers was always right there with you; if you wanted to wander around the street at night smoking a cigarette, he was giving you his coat and fumbling with a lighter. If you wanted to watch old comedy films and distract yourself, he was holding the television remote. If you wanted nothing more than to just be with him, he was there. He was always there for you. You were happy together, at the end of the day, and that was all you really cared about. From time to time, you would even visit the Gunmen’s office, you would spend all day there if you could, splitting your time between bothering Byers as he tried to work, listening to music with Langly whenever he had a free moment, and asking Frohike a thousand and one random questions - you liked Jimmy, too, the latest addition to their little group, he was sweet, he reminded you a lot of a puppy. He was a little bit stupid, too, which just went in his favour, really; you were never really sure how he knew, but whenever you walked into the office, Jimmy was always ready to give you a cold can of Red Bull, which never failed to make Byers raise a brow - he hated the stuff, but you liked it, so he never said anything. He was absolutely sure that there were things he liked that you hated but kept quiet about. Jimmy always made you laugh, though, especially when he caught up to the fact that you were never around during full moons - he always thought you had really important plans, he never really understood why you were always disappearing out of the door before the sun went down every full moon, Byers on your heels to steal a few kisses before you were gone, poor Jimmy never really got it, even when Langly and Frohike and Byers all tried to explain it; but you supposed that he was harmless, the poor kid had a heart of gold, after all, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly on purpose. 

And that was how life was with Byers -domestic bliss and enjoying the little things whilst trying not to worry about everything else. Trying so hard. Constantly fighting against the worry and the knowledge that it would all change, one day, be it sooner or later, it would change. 

That change came a lot sooner than expected, though. 

『••✎••』

It was around six o’clock in the morning when you got woken up by a pounding at the door, grumbling as you tugged on Byers’ dressing gown from the chair beside the bed, tying it around your waist, you spared a look at your partner, smiling fondly at how peaceful he looked whilst asleep, you bent down to kiss his forehead, brushing his hair gently before you dared to pad down the stairs as quietly as you could dare to; the air was already cold with early morning ice, but when you reached the door, you caught a very familiar whiff of a certain brand of cologne that made your fangs slip out, the canines in your mouth were elongated, slightly more curved and definitely sharper as you reached for the door handle and pulled it down, tugging the door open as you grinned; a familiar face on the other side, hands stuffed in his pockets, Fox dared to smile back. 

“Can I come in?” 

You nodded, stepping aside and gently closing the door behind him, ensuring to keep your voice quiet. “You realise what time it is, right?” 

Fox nodded, sucking in a harsh breath and fixing himself a cup of coffee, he knew the layout of the house all too well, and knew he was more than welcome to it; bringing the mug of coffee to his lips, Fox took a swig, and sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck, muttering. “I know, I know it’s early… but I’m on a case.” 

“Oh, fuck, here we go…” you grumbled, rubbing your temples and shaking your head. “Fox, I’m not going through all of that shit again - me and John, we’re… fuck, man, we’re happy.” 

He shook his head, swallowing thickly and licking his lips, he set the mug down on the counter and ran a hand through his hair; he looked exhausted, he knew that there was no hiding it, but he still suppressed the yawn that formed in his throat, clenching his jaw and letting it out with a sigh. “No, I’m not here - it’s not like that, this time.” 

You raised a brow, those fangs retracting once more with a crunching sound, you started to chew at the inside of your lip, shoving your hands into the pockets of the dressing gown, overwhelmed by its scent, relaxed and tranquilized by it. “What is it, then?” 

“This time, I know it’s a werewolf,” Fox started, “and I know exactly who it is - a man by the name of Tony Montana. He’s killing people that find out about what his business is doing to its workers.” 

“I’m pretty sure I don’t wanna know the answer,” you grumbled, shaking your head. “But what is his business doing?” 

“They’re experimenting on them,” he told you quietly, shrugging. “I’m not sure for what, yet, but it’s killing them. I have three dead bodies, all in the same company, all victims of some weird… weird experiment, and another two, same company, attacked and killed by a werewolf, and I know you don’t want to do it, (y/n), but I need your help - I need you to help me.” 

“Mulder,” Byers yawned, coming to stand beside you, wearing just his boxers and a t-shirt as he leaned against you, furrowing his brows, swallowing thickly, when you immediately held onto his hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “What’s going on?” 

“I need (y/n)’s help,” Fox replied with a heavy sigh, looking between you and your partner with great remorse, great guilt. “I have a case, and-” 

“No,” Byers cut in, looking at you and shaking his head, his blue eyes already pooled up with concern and worry and nervousness and anxiety, he mouthed the word at you again, silently pleading. “You can’t… I can’t… I don’t wanna lose you again…” 

You frowned as you returned Byers’ gaze, giving his hand yet another squeeze as you shook your head; you weren’t sure if you wanted to, in all honesty, as while you did want to help Fox, you could not bear the thought of getting hurt and not being able to come home again; you could not risk the happiness you had, but you did, truly, want to help. So you sighed, and pressed your forehead against him as you shrugged. “John…” 

“I can promise, you won’t even come face to face with him,” Fox reassured with a sincere nod. “You won’t even leave my sight, (y/n). I promise.” 

You slowly retracted your hand from Byers’, daring to favour wrapping your arms around his waist instead, daring to favour burying your head against him as you bit at your lip until it started to bleed, filling your mouth with orange spit. “John, if Fox says I’ll be safe then-” you cut yourself off with a harsh sigh. “I trust him.” 

Byers, in all honesty, was conflicted to say the least; for a start, he was worried like Hell that you would almost definitely get hurt doing such work, that you would end up back in a hospital bed or worse, that all the domestic bliss you had had together the past stretch of months would all come crashing down into a halt, that he would lose you for good this time; but on the other hand, he was very much confident that you could look after yourself, and that with Fox’s added protection, there was no doubt things would turn out fine, that you would catch the guy responsible and come home to him to continue living in domestic bliss. Byers wanted you to help Fox, he wanted you to do the right thing, but all the same, he didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, he didn’t even want to think of such a situation - not now, not tomorrow, not any time - and it was making his stomach churn the more he thought about it so deeply, far too much for his own good. 

“As long as you promise to keep him safe.” Byers said as he turned to Fox, glaring at his old friend. 

『••✎••』

Goodbyes sucked. You honestly hated them, far too much, but as Byers told you a thousand and one times that he loved you between kisses, refusing to let go of your hands as he told you how much he loved you, how much he wanted you to stay safe and would be just a call away if you needed him, you couldn’t deny that there was some sort of bittersweetness to them; the thousand and one times that you kissed him back between each “I love you”, holding onto his hands so tightly that you feared you would truly never let go until the end of eternity, how much you wanted to stay safe just to be able to return to him and promising to call him whenever you had a moment free. Yes, as awful as they were, you had to admit, there was a bittersweetness to saying goodbye. You would miss his scent, you would miss his touch, you would miss everything about Byers, you would even miss the way he insisted on ironing his suits every Sunday and get in the way of the television screen - although you had to admit, you didn’t mind the view then, either - and as you sat with Fox in his car, all you could do was to stare out of the window while the radio played; all you could do was stare out of the window and miss your partner with a heavy heart. 

“Y’know, werewolves experience separation anxiety a lot worse and at a much harsher level than-” 

“Shut up,” you grumbled, watching the fields pass as you sighed. 

“I’m just saying,” Fox spared a glance at you, frowning. “It’s normal to feel recurrent and excessive distress right now. You’re away from home, you’re away from Byers. It’s normal.” 

“Fox,” you growled, turning to him if only to glare daggers his way as you huffed. “I’m not in the mood. I just… I wanna help you, I do, but I also wanna get this done and over with as quickly as possible.” 

He wasn’t sure what to do, or what to say, as although he knew you loved him, he knew that he was part of your ‘pack’, he also knew that it wasn’t the same kind of love as what you had with Byers, and he knew that that had an impact on it just as much as being away from your own home did, too; he had seen it when he placed you into protective custody and you spent the better part of the day grumbling and groaning and feeling sorry for yourself in your room. He had seen it when you first moved out of your father’s ranch to live in the city when he was first assigned to the X-Files, you spent so many days homesick and constantly whining and feeling nothing but stress on such a level that it had made you throw up more than once. He was actually kind of glad when you moved in with your family again, when the city got too much for you and you went back home. 

“I know,” Fox said eventually, rolling down the window when you reached into your pocket for your cigarettes, he flicked the car’s lighter on and frowned. “Why don’t you get in the backseat and try to get some rest?” 

You shook your head, lighting up your cigarette and taking a long drag, flicking ash out of your window and watching it fly away on the wings of the wind. “I’m not tired.” 

“Hungry?” He asked, grabbing the sunflower seeds from beside him and offering you one. “They can help keep it down until we get to a rest-stop.” 

“I’m good,” you declined, the two words filled with smoke as you breathed them out of the window. 

“There’s some Red Bull under your seat if you want any,” he admitted. “I got some for you before I left this morning… I was gonna just leave ‘em with you if you said no to helping me.” 

“Thanks…” you growled, taking another drag from your cigarette. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything, pup,” Fox agreed, nodding. 

You sucked in a harsh breath, tutting as you tried to think of the best way to phrase it - but then again, how does one ask his best friend if his partner is going to be safe while he’s out helping to chase down murderers? 

“Is Byers gonna be safe?”

For a good moment, Fox fell silent, trying to concentrate on where the turning was as he tried to also come up with a decent enough answer; there was no guarantee of it, he knew that, he knew there was never any guarantee of loved ones being safe when it concerned these kinds of cases, but all the same, he did know that there was a good chance that nothing would happen to Byers while you were gone, he knew that there was a decent enough chance of nothing happening. 

“Honestly? Probably, yeah. There’s always a chance of something happening, but it’s not likely.” 

You glared at him, tossing your half-finished cigarette out of the window and baring those large canines. “What do you mean there’s a fucking chance?” 

Fox shrugged, sighing. “It’s dangerous work, (y/n), things happen. I can’t guarantee that Byers is gonna be safe, but there’s a good chance he will be.” 

“Oh, you fucking goddamn ass-” 

“We’re here,” he grumbled, shutting you up as he pulled into a large garden, stopping at a grand white gate and pressing the buzzer. 

“Montana residence.” 

“Special Agent Fox Mulder of the FBI,” Fox said into the little machine. “I’m here to meet with Tony.” 

“Come back with a warrant.” 

The buzzer ended, and Fox sighed as he pulled the car into reverse. “We’re gonna help getting in there.” 

『••✎••』

With The Lone Gunmen hired to help, Fox had absolutely no doubt that anything could go wrong, he had his entire confidence pinned on them, and after hacking a few computers and doing some printing here and there, he made the plan very clear: sneak into Montana’s house party, Langly could stay in the car and go through Montana’s computers to try and find anything, you and Fox would ask the guests a few questions here and there, Jimmy would be there for damage control while Frohike kept everyone good and distracted, and Byers would be there to keep an eye on things and ensure they were going smoothly. Dressed in tailored and fine black suits with various coloured ties - you had red, Fox had white, Jimmy had yellow, Frohike had purple, and Byers also had red - things were going rather smoothly; granted, the champagne tasted disgusting, but it was a rich person’s drink after all, and you weren’t particularly keen on all the posh people with silver spoons in their mouths, either… but knowing that Byers was near and that, when you needed a break, you could simply meet him at the bar was almost certainly what was getting you through it. 

It made you grin when you noticed the wedding band on his finger, though. 

“Mister Byers, are you trying to hint at something?” You chuckled, raising your glass to your lips and taking a swig, trying to hide your disgust at the bubbly, which only made Byers laugh as he shrugged. 

“Maybe I am,” he admitted, biting his lip and doing his best not to shake his head. “Y’know, you don’t  _ have  _ to drink the champagne, Mister (y/l/n).” 

“It’s all a part of the plan, Mister Byers,” you took a quick look around before placing your glass on the bar and tugging at his tie, flashing the puppy-dog eyes and smirking. “I think we have some time, we could slip away.” 

“It would endanger the case,” Byers whined, daring to lean down enough to softly kiss your neck as he frowned a little; neither of you noticed that, across the room, Fox had heard everything, and seen it, and he tapped his earbud, causing a shriek of feedback to pierce through your eardrums. 

“Hey! Lovestruck Puppies, we’re working a case, here. Focus.” 

You reluctantly pulled away from Byers, sharing a quick gaze with him before you reluctantly returned to Fox’s side, glaring and punching his arm. 

“Dick.” 

“Calm down, wolf-man,” Fox whined, rubbing his arm. “We’re working here, in case you forgot.” 

“So I couldn’t have five seconds alone with the man I love?” You hissed quietly, nearly snarling. 

But he only smiled back, draping an arm over your shoulders and shaking his head. “I promise, when all this is done, you can have as much time with Byers as you want.” 

You huffed, shaking your head. “I’m gonna fucking hold that to you, Foxy.” 

“I’ve got the guy’s computer files,” Langly’s voice interrupted the channel, causing you to nod as you looked at Fox; Jimmy was chatting up some person his own age, a daft smile on his face as he did his best to make them smile; Frohike was, thankfully, simply sat on one of the large sofas against the wall; but when Fox looked for Byers, he swallowed thickly. 

“Thanks, Langly,” Fox cleared his throat and turned you around to face the wall. “See? We’re almost done, (y/n), we’ve almost got enough here to take the guy down.” 

You furrowed your brows at your friend, noticing how shifty and paranoid he looked all of a sudden, making you pull out of his grip in order to turn around and look out at the dancefloor; you swallowed thickly, clenching your jaw as you saw Byers being invited to dance by some perfectly good looking party-guest, looking nervous as he rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. You turned to Fox again, shaking your head. 

“Can we go, now?” You asked, looking back at the dancefloor, at Byers - who couldn’t dance, admittedly - seeming rather cosy with that perfectly good looking posh arsehole. You knew you couldn’t show it, the bright green jealousy running through your blood, the way it made your hands tremble as you refused to look away, how your jaw clenched so tightly that it made you worry that it would break, how your eyes narrowed at the other person as your shoulders tensed and your heart sank - your heart sank so deeply, it felt as if it were made of cinderblocks. You couldn’t look away, you knew that, but all the same, you really wanted to forget you had ever seen such a scene, you wanted to forget all about the jealousy that was eating away at your insides. 

Fox laid a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently and offering a weak smile as he hummed lowly; he knew all too well that you wanted nothing more than to let yourself go, than to let your jealousy run through you, but he also knew that such a scene would almost certainly give the entire undercover operation at risk or worse, so instead, he pulled you into his side, resting his chin on top of your head as he rubbed your arm gently. “Just a few extra minutes, then we’ll all be gone… don’t worry.” 

You lapsed into Fox’s embrace, the kind of comfort only a best friend could give, the type of hug that no one but Fox could give, you melted into his side, clinging onto him tightly as you sniffled. “I know I shouldn’t be, but-” 

“I know,” he muttered, kissing the top of your head and sighing heavily. “I know, don’t worry, (y/n), I know.” 

“I’m gonna go outside,” you muttered, pulling away and disappearing out the door and into the garden… right as Byers came up to Fox, frowning. 

“Where’s (y/n)?” Byers asked, furrowing his brows and looking around for you desperately. 

Fox frowned back, shrugging. “He had to go. He needed, needed some air… I think that champagne got to him, y’know?” 

Byers shook his head, confused, worried, even a little bit suspicious as he scratched at his chin, right where a grey patch in his beard was. “Is he alright? Do you think I should go check on him? Good grief, what if-” 

“Calm down, Byers,” Fox placed his hands on Byers’ shoulders, shaking his head as he dared to smile, tight-lipped and hardly even a true smile at all. “He’s fine. Trust me on this… get Frohike and Jimmy, anyways, we’ll meet up at the car, okay?” 

“Oh… okay.” 

『••✎••』

You didn’t allow Byers to know about your jealousy that night, you kept it solely between you and Fox… and Langly, who had seen you from his spot in the car and had walked around with you for a little while, even letting you give a few random people’s emails a quick message of “you vile little person” after hacking into them; you were thankful for that, even more thankful when Fox asked if you would join him on a stakeout. It was cold, and you complained a little about the fact that Fox always chose those fucking horrible air fresheners that were impossibly sweet and shaped like Jammie Dodgers, but you were having fun, even if you shouldn’t have really; your feet kicked up on the dashboard, reclined in your seat as you ate through a bag of salted popcorn, rock music playing on the radio from one of your CDs, you were pretty happy to spend the next twelve hours watching the house, if you were honest. 

“I really did need this today,” you chuckled, tossing a piece of popcorn in the air and attempting to catch it in your mouth. 

“I know,” Fox smiled, nodding as he stole some of your popcorn and shovelled it into his mouth; stakeouts were hungry business, apparently. But even still, while they could get boring between bits of inactivity as well as through the sluggish nature of the night going by, Fox was kind of enjoying it; it gave him some time alone with you, which wasn’t something he often got while working, some time alone with you wasn’t something that happened so often, and he did miss the days where he could show up at your door and tell you to come down to the woods so he could spend all night talking to you about the stars and the universe and about the world beyond your own and the various conspiracy theories he had learned from his television and his books. Fox missed those days, he missed the day when you were both children - but then, he supposed, you never really were, were you? How could you two ever be children when he was carrying the weight of his sister’s abduction and you were carrying the weight of knowing that you were born different, of knowing that you were what most people called a monster? How were you and Fox Mulder ever children in the first place? 

“Hey, remember when I was going out with that guy, oh, fuck, what was his name - Joshua?” You chuckled, shaking your head as the memories came flooding through, as the memories came to blanket your mind in a haze of nostalgia and an icy grip. “Remember how we were all smoking weed in the park and he broke up with me because Gavin came over and I spent the entire night crying on your shoulder?” 

“I was so ready to kick his ass,” Fox laughed along, nodding slowly as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes clouding over slightly as he remembered what that night was like; it was cold, and damp, and you were sat on an old raincoat you had stolen from your father in order to keep your asses from getting wet as you sat on the bench. 

“You wouldn’t have stood a chance, though,” you pointed out, looking over at him and grinning, your smile so bright and those fangs glittering in the dim light of the street-lamp that the car was parked beneath. “Let’s be real, Joshua would’ve kicked your fucking ass.” 

“Yeah, probably,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair and leaning back a little in his seat, spreading his legs and sighing. “But, y’know, I never thought I’d see you settle down, if I’m honest - not properly, at least.” 

“What do you mean?” You hummed, looking back out at the grounds you were supposed to be monitoring, the grounds you were supposed to be watching for the suspect to do something, anything, hopefully something that could give Fox something decent in the form of evidence. 

Shrugging, Fox kicked his foot up to rest beside the steering wheel as he sighed, daring to scratch the side of his nose as he, for a moment, thought what he actually meant. “I mean, I’ve never known you to actually, y’know…” he made a certain noise that made you raise a brow. “I’ve always known you as a playboy, (y/n), you know that - I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually fall in love with someone the way you did with Byers.” 

You smiled, mostly to yourself, as you hung your head and nodded; he was right - most of your relationships never got past a month, you never allowed yourself to be so vulnerable and so open with someone, you never allowed someone to get so close to you the way that you did Byers. Hell, you didn’t even tell Fox some of the things you told Byers, and you had known Fox since you were still walking around in nappies, you had known Fox for forever, he was family to you, and yet, you still kept secrets from him. “That’s because he’s different, you know that, you… fuck, Fox, you know that Byers isn’t like everybody else, you know he’s different.” 

“Oh, trust me, I know,” he smiled back at you, that somewhat fond smile that siblings gave one another when, after a day of fighting and arguing, they finally found something to bond over, be it family cooking or a television show, it was the same smile that Fox gave you now as he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat in order to get his other leg up beside the steering wheel. “You’ve had more one night stands than I ever will, but… honestly? I’m glad that you found Byers and that you have that sorta happiness, (y/n). I really am.” 

Thinking back to earlier, you let out a shaky breath as you shook your head and closed your eyes; you had probably ruined that, now, thanks to your own jealousy and your lack of controlling it, Byers would probably never want to see you again, which absolutely terrified you to the bone. You never felt the same around anyone else as you did when you were around him - with him, the world was a kaleidoscope of colour, rich and full, the clouds that did so often hang on your shoulders were nothing more than little rain clouds that didn’t matter, the fear and your scars and everything that was left of your heart… Byers made you feel as if it was all fine. He made you feel as if life was beautiful, as if you weren’t some monster that had to be kept away and be wary of, as if every love song on the radio was true. You scoffed at yourself, able to feel your eyes stinging a little with the pricking of tears starting to form - those clouds were back, trapped in your eyes as you winced a little. “I’m such a fucking idiot, ain’t I?” 

Laying his hand on your shoulder, Fox shook his head as he dared to offer a small smile, reassuring; he knew you felt so awful for how you felt, but he also knew that you felt worse for not talking to Byers about it, he knew that you felt worse for hiding it and for not talking it out with the person who mattered most - Fox was never really good at giving gifts, he was never really good at being reassuring, but as he looked at your tear stained eyes, he bit his lip and knew that, above all else, he had to at least try. “I… yeah, probably. But we all get jealous, (y/n).” 

“It was just one dance,” you grumbled, hiccuping as you tried to dull down your own regret and remorse over what had happened, over what you had felt. “Is it normal to get jealous over one dance? One stupid little fucking dance? Or is it… is it a werewolf thing?” 

Thinking back, Fox had been jealous over a lot lesser things than a dance, he had gotten jealous over a smile or a laugh, he had gotten jealous over a cup of coffee before, so thinking back, he was pretty certain that it wasn’t just a werewolf thing, maybe that amplified it, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that jealousy was common, it was normal, he knew that jealousy wasn’t a particularly bad thing in the slightest, and he knew that it was natural to feel it from time to time. “It’s not a werewolf thing, (y/n), we all feel jealous here and there… everybody gets jealous, it’s not… it happens, pup, no big deal - but, if I’m honest? I know for a fact that Byers would never love anyone the way he does you, I know he wouldn’t ever look at anyone the way he looks at you. And I know, for a fact, that Byers would never do anything that could involve the possibility of losing you - look at how he reacted when I came to see you the other day, look at how worried he was at just the thought of losing you, (y/n). He…” Fox chuckled, nearly grinning as he looked at you. “He  _ loves _ you, wolf-man… he didn’t leave your side for an entire month, he stayed glued to your side the entire time you were in that hospital - trust me, Byers loves you. He loves you, and only you.” 

Fox did certainly have a point there, you had to admit, you couldn’t argue against him on that, every single day with Byers had been bliss, and you knew for a fact that he stayed at your bedside while you were confined to that hospital bed, he really did stay there the entire time; he really didn’t leave your side, and even after it, Byers was always doing the little things to show he loved you - the food fights, the cuddling, the staying up together, making you coffee the exact way you liked it every single morning, learning all the words to your favourite songs, peppering you in a thousand little kisses whenever he had to say goodbye for a day and returning a thousand little kisses each time he came home, making sure that all your favourite foods were in the cupboards, keeping a stock of Red Bull in the shed for you even though he hated the stuff, giving you his blazer when you got cold, giving you his dressing gown at night, letting you lay on his chest when he was reading as he used one hand to gently rub the back of your neck the exact way he knew you loved so much. Maybe Fox did make several points. Maybe Byers did love you, and only you. And maybe wasn’t such an ugly feeling, but just a normal one - like sadness and anger. Maybe jealousy wasn’t some Jekyll and Hyde type of emotion to be concealed and afraid of and hated. Maybe it was normal, natural. Maybe you hadn’t wrecked anything just yet. 

“What’re you gonna do if I get married before you, though?” You chuckled, trying to change the subject - you knew what you had to do when you got home, you knew what needed to be done, to be said. 

Fox groaned, shaking his head and picking at his lips. “I dunno, I’ll probably make an embarrassment of you, though, but only as your best man.” 

You scoffed, gently pushing his face as you rolled your eyes. “Who says you’re gonna be my best man?” 

“The fact that we’ve been friends since we were kids?” He suggested with a raised brow. 

“And?” You chuckled. “What if I want, I dunno, one of my cousins to be my best man, instead?” 

“C’mon,” Fox smirked. “You know you’d still pick me.” 

“Alright, yeah, I would - but don’t fucking tell anyone.” You rolled your eyes at him, tutting softly before something hit you, making you hum curiously. “Y’know, you were the first person to have seen me shift, Foxy.” 

“Oh, shit,” he paused, thinking about it seriously for a moment before he nodded and bit his lip. “I was, wasn’t I?” 

“You’ve literally been there for me throughout everything,” you mused, a fond smile on your lips. “You should definitely be my best man.”

『••✎••』

Everything, every little shred of evidence and smallest crumb of proof, that Fox had had turned out to be very much a dead-end, and he wasn’t particularly sure of what to do if he was honest, and after the stakeout, he had told you to go home, and promised that if he needed anything, then he would call; and in all honesty, you were relieved to be back home. You nearly ran into the front door the second you got a whiff of Byers’ scent, though, excited beyond all belief as you felt your fangs come out once more, pushing down the urge to crash through the solid metal white door - but once you were in, the second you saw Byers, you caught him off guard, tackling him in a hug that nearly forced him to the floor as you clung onto him tightly, your arms around his waist as you barked out his name; having grown used to such a reaction, Byers let out a soft chuckle, very much glad to be so close to you as he held you tightly and struggled for words, all he could do was to smile to himself as he buried his face against the side of your neck, closing his eyes and allowing himself to relax. His scent was so strong, freshly ironed suits and slightly out of fashion cologne, aftershave that was sweet like strawberries, but you could never complain, he smelled like home. He felt like home, warm and gentle, welcoming. You almost knocked him off of his feet, and he didn’t even dare to bite back his smile this time, he didn’t even think of doing such a thing, nearly grinning at how you tackled him and left him no time to steady himself as you held him so tightly. You felt like home, comforting and tranquil, welcoming. 

“I missed you,” you whined, tilting your head to the side and closing your eyes; you never wanted to let go, you never wanted to apart again, you never wanted to be without him. Not again. “I know we only saw each other yesterday, but-” 

“I know,” Byers chuckled, letting you move to bury your head against his chest, letting you wrap yourself in him as you whined softly against him. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m so sorry I got jealous,” you whimpered, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry I got jealous, Byers, I didn’t-” 

“Hey…” gently, he pushed you away enough to grasp your chin between his forefinger and thumb, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes as he smiled sadly. “We all get jealous from time to time, everybody does, it’s not… it happens. And it’s, it’s cute that you got jealous over just one dance.” 

You chuckled softly, swiping your tongue along your bottom lip. “It was cute?” 

“It was,” Byers kissed your forehead softly as his smile went from sad to lighthearted. “And anyways, I could never love anyone the way I love you, I wouldn’t ever look at anyone and see them the same way I do you. I would never do anything that could involve the possibility of losing you…” he pressed another kiss to your forehead. “I love you. I love you, (y/n), and only you.” 

The smell of something metallic hit you, then, and when you looked at Byers’ left hand, you grinned; he was still wearing the gold wedding band on his finger, and when he saw that you noticed, he shrugged and blushed. 

“Are you still trying to hint at something?” You chuckled, raising a brow as you did your best not to think of the conversation you had had with Fox; maybe you did want to get married, maybe you would be quite happy being Byers’ husband, maybe you were finally settled down. Maybe Byers was the one for you, truly. 

“I, uh… maybe,” he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. He had forgotten to take it off. But the thought was very much appealing; maybe he did want to get married, maybe he would be quite happy being your husband, maybe his white picket fence dream was a lot more realistic than he had once thought. Maybe you were the one for him, truly. “Maybe we could, y’know.” 

It wasn’t as if neither of you had thought of it before, after all, the night of your fight that landed you in the hospital, it was the very subject you were talking about - the white picket fence dream, marriage… but it had been swept aside in favouring domestic bliss, in savouring and cherishing and treasuring it all. Frohike and Langly certainly brought it up enough times, asking if they were going to be the best men at the wedding, never failing to make Byers blush and grin at you; he thought about it time and time again, marriage was the next big step. 

“Maybe we could,” you agreed, pulling away and offering him your hand. “Provided you learn to dance, first.” 

The tips of ears went pink, as did his cheeks and just below his eyes, the bridge of his nose, his face felt hot as he cleared his throat and tilted his head; unsure of whether or not to take you up on your offer - Byers knew he couldn’t dance, he knew that he couldn’t do it for love nor money, and he had thought about setting some cash aside to take lessons… but right now, he was more than worried about stepping on your toes and causing you pain with his lack of skills. “(y/n), don’t… c’mon, you know I can’t dance.” 

“I’ll teach you,” you reassured, gently grasping his wrists and placing his hands on your waist, you smiled so sweetly that Byers couldn’t help but to fall silent and listen to you as you placed your arms around his neck. “See? So far, so good.” 

“I’m still not sure about this,” he admitted, biting at the inside of his top lip. 

“Just follow my lead,” you whispered, starting to sway from side to side, gently, slowly, sweetly. “You’re doing great, John.” 

Although his current biggest fear was hurting you by stepping on your feet, Byers had to admit, he was starting to enjoy it, he was starting to relax a little as he locked into the steady rhythm; your eyes were glowing slightly in the darkening living room, and he couldn’t help but to smile as he said, “y’know, you make everything okay… but I was so scared when Fox asked you to help with his case, I thought… good lord, I thought I’d lose you for good, this time.” 

You shook your head, releasing one of your hands in order to gently cup his cheek as you smiled so fondly, so tenderly, at him. “You’ll never lose me, you know that… no matter what happens, I always come back to you, don’t I?” 

Leaning into your touch, Byers nodded, letting out the softest of sighs as he dared to close his eyes for a moment, just to savour the moment for that little bit longer, a few extra seconds seemed like such a precious eternity. “You do… you always have… even when I least expected it.” 

“Y’know, Fox had to hold me back that day,” you whispered, leaning your chin on his shoulder and gripping him that little bit tighter. “I was gonna bolt into that house, and while I tried to hold it down, Fox had to hold me back… the second I caught your scent, it was like my world changed - my heart was beating two miles a second, I thought it was gonna burst out of my ribs… and then I saw you, and I couldn’t hold it back.” 

“You nearly knocked me off of my feet,” he muttered, fond of those memories, fond of the way you always seemed to tackle him and cling onto him so tightly whenever you were apart or even just a few hours. Byers always loved thinking about that day. “I tried reading the newspaper, looking for a new lead, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how you felt wrapped around me, the scent of dewdrops and mud was like home… all I wanted was to be back in your embrace, to be holding you, all I wanted was to be close to you like that again.” 

“And here you are,” you chuckled softly, kissing his neck softly. “Do you regret it at all?” 

“No.” He fell silent for a moment, not wanting to clench his jaw. “Do you?” 

You shook your head, letting out a low and quiet growl that almost was silent. “No, but I regret not telling you about the whole werewolf thing earlier, if I’m honest. And I regret being jealous, even though I spoke to Fox about it and he said… well, let’s just say he knocked some sense into me.” 

“I regret not telling you I loved you earlier,” Byers admitted quietly, “but it’s cute when you get jealous, so… call it even, maybe?” 

“Call it whatever you want,” you grinned, settling into a comfortable silence with him, dancing in the living room despite there being no music; it was just and Byers in your own little world, and that was all that mattered… until there was a knock at the door that had him grumbling as he reluctantly pulled away to go and answer it, letting out a surprised yelp that caused you to bolt over. “Fox…” 

He was bloody, and bruised, and badly cut up - you recognised it instantly as another werewolf, but your best friend was just about clinging onto consciousness, meaning you and Byers had to waste no time in getting him out to the kitchen. 

Your breathing was heavy as you examined each wound and cut on his arms, chest, face, his back - you let out a whine every time he winced at the antiseptic stinging the fresh wounds, orange-coloured stained wipes started to pile up on the table as you tried to reassure him with everything that you had; sure, Byers was worried, too, incredibly so, but as he watched you work on your best friend… he couldn’t help but to think back to the time he had patched up your wounds. How he had apologised nearly every second for making you wince and seethe and hiss in pain with every wipe of antiseptic. How you had bared your fangs right in front of him and he had been able to do nothing but stare for a moment or two. 

But it didn’t take long until you and Fox were laughing and joking together, he was weak, he was hurt, but he still laughed at your jokes and joined in with your banter; he still rolled his eyes at your stupid puns and grinned when you told an inside joke or two. It was killing Byers to see such a sight, as although he knew that you and Fox were nothing but good friends, it killed him to think that you could dump him for someone like that - someone better, someone with a better job, better life, someone who could afford to treat you the way that you deserved, someone who could make you laugh and smile and grin, someone better. Someone that wasn’t him. Unsure of what he felt and how he felt, Byers silently excused himself, moving to go to bed instead. 

“Fox,” you grumbled, frowning at your friend as you sat back, making sure that every cut was patched up well and truly. “What happened, man?” 

“I was attacked!” He cried weakly, coughing and groaning, croaking. “I was out doing some work, checking where a couple of the bodies were found, making sure every piece of evidence was collected and accounted for… something attacked me, (y/n).” 

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head to try and focus. “What do you mean something attacked you?” 

“A werewolf,” he moaned, aching and sore all over, a stinging sharp pain in his chest from the deepest wound. “I’m not sure who it was, exactly, but… I know it was a werewolf, and I’m pretty sure it was that son of a bitch Montana, too.” 

You nodded slowly, pursing your lips as you thought for a second, a moment that seemed like an eternity, a lifetime within the blink of an eye. “Okay, well… stay here for tonight, alright? You can’t go anywhere right now.” 

Fox sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t, I-” 

“You’re staying, goddamnit,” you wanted to seem threatening, but when you looked into Fox’s eyes, all you could do was nearly grin. “You can have the sofa, alright? There’s a blanket on the back of the sofa, and some cushions, too, so I wouldn’t… you better goddamn stay, Fox, or I’ll fucking attack you, as well.” 

Chuckling, Fox clutched his ribs in agony, cutting his laughter off as he waved you away. “Go to bed, (y/n). I’ll stay.” 

“Thank you,” you sighed, standing up and ruffling his hair; you shot him a smile before leaving him where he was sat; you figured Byers had gone to bed, but even still, when you stripped down to your boxers and got into the bed beside him, he made no move to pull you close, he made no move to bury his face against the back of your neck, he didn’t murmur your name along with a quiet confession of love… he just rolled onto his side and sighed. “John?” 

No answer. 

You frowned, thinking you must have done something wrong, you rested your chin on his shoulder and hummed lowly, not quite comfortable but not really caring as you sighed heavily; you weren’t sure what you did wrong, maybe he was just tired, you thought, placing a soft kiss to his bare skin before snuggling down beside him, nuzzling into the back of his neck and snaking an arm around his middle. Letting out a soft whimper, you tried to fall asleep, but had to keep tossing and turning in order to get comfortable enough to get even a few seconds, but without Byers holding onto you tightly, letting you know that you were safe and sound and that your heart was, too, you couldn’t exactly get it in your system enough to drift off - so you stayed there, sighing and grumbling until, eventually, Byers - half asleep - rolled over and pulled you back into him, letting you nuzzle into the side of his neck and lie on his arm, his hand on your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, smiling a little to yourself as you grumbled his name softly and told him that you loved him more than anything. More than anything. When you were so close, when you could feel his chest rising and falling beneath your hand, you knew that all was well, you knew that sleep could come within a mere moment’s notice and would come before you even realised it as it so often did, you knew that your dreams would be sweet. 

And you were right. 

『••✎••』

Fox left shortly after breakfast, having guzzled down enough orange juice to ensure that you and Byers would need to go shopping for more and eating almost most of the bread in the fridge, he had thanked you both profusely before running off to go and try to sort out his case once and for all, promising to keep you updated and informed on what happened and when and where and how; but the second he was out of the door, Byers sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a harsh grumble and a groan. 

“John, what’s wrong?” You asked softly, reaching your hand across the table to hold his, your brows furrowed as you frowned and tilted your head; you had never seen him in such a state, you had never seen him so worked up and exhausted, and it made your heart pound as you thought about the previous night. “Was it something I did?” 

Byers shook his head, silently cursing himself for not knowing how to word it properly, silently cursing himself for being such an idiot, such a fool, for being so utterly and completely stupid; how could he have been so blind? Why did he let his jealousy get the better of him? 

“It’s nothing you did,” he whispered eventually, voice hoarse and making you shiver and bite the inside of your lip as he finally looked at you, blue eyes slightly darker than usual. “I promise, you did nothing wrong.” 

And you didn’t, so why did he act so foolish last night? All you did was look after your best friend, someone you had known since you were young and dumb, so why did he treat it as if you had done some massive wrong against him? Why did he treat you so coldly the night before? 

“Talk to me,” you willed him, whining a little as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze, worried beyond belief. “Please?” 

Byers glared at you for a second before leaning back in his chair and using his free hand to scratch at his chin, that spot right below the patch of grey on the right. “I’m an idiot. Good lord, I  _ am _ an idiot.” 

You chuckled softly, raising a brow and licking your lips. Granted, Byers was far from the smartest, especially when it came to street smarts, he was too polite and nice to everybody, and granted, he was not exactly the best at saying what he felt, always overthinking what words he could and would use, wondering if they would ever be good enough to truly capture what went on in that wonderful head of his; but you loved him for that, you loved him for all the times he said good grief and good lord, you loved him for the fact that he stuttered from time to time, you loved him for the fact that he whined your name beneath his breath when you did something that was far from smart, you loved him for the fact that he was your Byers. He was the John Fitzgerald Byers you fell in love with, and you didn’t want him to change - not now, not tomorrow, not next week, not ever, you never wanted him to change. So you smiled at him, bringing his knuckles to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to the skin, and echoed something he had said to you all those months ago when you were in his protective custody, “say what first comes into your head.” 

“I’m jealous,” he blurted out, whispering a quick “good grief, I’m sorry” beneath his breath when he realised what he had admitted to, but that only made you smile even more as you moved to climb onto his lap, straddling him and pressing your forehead against his shoulder as he held your hips, leaving Byers with no other choice but to nuzzle into the side of your neck as he dared to relax a little, as he dared to shift his hips slightly to allow you to get more comfortable. 

“You realise it’s fine, right?” You muttered against him. “It’s no big deal, John, it happens. It’s not - it’s nothing to worry about, honestly…” you hummed lowly, closing your eyes and taking in his scent; freshly ironed suits and slightly out of fashion cologne, aftershave that was sweet like strawberries. Home. “I’m not angry, or upset…” 

“Y- you’re not?” He mumbled, holding onto you tightly and doing his best not to breathe out a sigh of relief at the fact that you weren’t angry at him, you weren’t upset with him even though he knew that he definitely deserved it. 

“No,” you hummed. “I love you, John, these things… they happen. They’re not gonna make me love you any less. And they never will.” 

“Oh, jeez! Maybe we should’ve called first!” Langly groaned as he strolled into the kitchen, causing you to scramble off of Byers’ lap, but not before stealing a quick kiss; Jimmy and Frohike trailed behind Langly, and the three of them soon stole the other chairs at the table. 

“H- hey, guys,” Byers cleared his throat, blushing bright red as he chuckled nervously and wished you didn’t go to make coffees, he needed you near. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t meet on Sundays?” 

Langly turned to Frohike, who dared to speak up with a sigh, “we did, but we wanted to come by and see how you two are doing.” 

“Yeah, we, uh, we heard about your FBI friend,” Jimmy added, sounding rather sad, like a kicked puppy-dog. 

Byers expected you to answer, but when you didn’t, he smiled uneasily. “Uh, yeah, he’s okay, now, though.” 

“What was it?” Langly asked with furrowed brows. “The government?” 

Byers shook his head. “No, uh, it was… uh…” 

“It was a fucking werewolf!” You called from your end of the kitchen, grabbing two of the mugs of coffee and placing them down on the table, you grabbed the next two, and set them down, then finally settled down with your own, your legs on Byers’ lap as you sighed. “It was a fucking piece of shit… a werewolf, yeah, but fuck me, a bastard.” 

Byers shot you a look, never much being comfortable around profanity, but this time it was more the way you spoke, the anger in your voice that gave away the tell-tale signs of baring fangs and a snarling voice. He placed his hand on your leg, gently running his thumb up and down, hoping that the movements fell through the layer of thick cargo trousers, an attempt at calming you that worked when you returned his look and smiled. 

“Werewolves exist?” Jimmy gawked, looking around the table. 

Byers sighed, covering his face with his free hand and not even daring to look at you, knowing that, if he did, there would be nothing stopping him from laughing; Langly looked away, clearing his throat and busying himself with drinking his coffee; Frohike sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. 

“Jimmy,” you said in a sweet voice, turning to him with a bitten back grin. “How long have you known me?” 

“A couple of months,” he shrugged. “Why?” 

“Where…” you couldn’t finish, a chortle rising in your throat and making it impossible for you to do so as you hung your head and looked at Byers, who bit his lip when he looked back at you, shaking his head and silently cursing you for making him laugh, too. 

“What’s so funny?” Jimmy asked, genuinely confused as he looked around the table. 

“Jimmy,” Frohike cleared his throat, glaring at you and Byers snickering together. “You’re sat at a table with a werewolf, right now.” 

The young man gawked, looking around before looking back at Frohike and grinning. “Byers?!” 

“No.” Frohike shook his head. “It’s not me, Langly, or Byers.” 

Jimmy furrowed his brows, concentration and focus evident in his eyes as he looked around the table, but then he leaned back in his chair and clicked his fingers. “Oh, I get it! Werewolves can turn invisible, right? So I can’t see who it is!” 

“The kid’s an idiot…” Frohike grumbled, although he did have a little bit of a soft spot for Jimmy, it was impossible to deny that, sometimes, Jimmy was a bit stupid. 

“It’s me, Jimmy,” you managed to say through titters, tears in your eyes from trying so hard not to laugh. “I’m a werewolf.” 

Jimmy looked around the table a final time, Byers had his hand on yours protectively, focused on nothing but you, Langly was still drinking his coffee, and Frohike was looking at him so expectantly. 

“That’s so cool!” Jimmy said after a moment of silence, his face lighting up as he grinned. “So, why do you always leave the office during a full moon? Is that, like, date night for you and Byers or something?” 

You didn’t have the heart to tell him, you really didn’t, so you decided, instead, to let him just have that one little mystery; he could figure it out on his own… hopefully, maybe. 

『••✎••』

After Frohike and Langly and Jimmy had stayed for a few hours, they had left, and Byers had gotten a call, it declared good news to be told to both you and him, so he had gone out to receive the good news, the news that Fox had finally caught Tony Montana in the act and had put him away for good, and he would have taken you with him… except it was a full moon, and you had disappeared for the hours until dawn, which he didn’t mind too much anymore, he worried a lot about something happening to you, he always did, but he knew that you were more than capable of looking after yourself, just as he knew that you would always return to him in the end; but when he got home, he was not expecting to see a large wolf with a brown and grey coat, pale grey fur on the legs, a fluffy tail, and yellow eyes that were hidden away behind the curtains of furry eyelids, your clothes were folded in a neat pile on the coffee table as they always were when you shifted these days, making him sigh as he realised that he would need to put the laundry in the washing machine again, but he didn’t mind that too much; but when he saw you shivering, whimpering and whining in your sleep as your legs twitched as if you were chasing something in the plains of the dreamworld. He shrugged off his jacket, and draped it over you before grabbing a thin blanket from the pile of folded laundry on the counter, and added that, too before he gently scratched that spot behind your ear that made your left foot stamp in the air. It made him smile and chuckle softly to himself. You were home now, and to Byers, that was all that he cared about - the good news could wait. 

『••✎••』

Weeks went by without so much as a hiccup, domestic bliss once again settling in, and in that time, Byers had saved up enough money to buy some silver chains; one draped around your neck, and one sat on each of your wrists, and when you shifted, they still managed to fit - wearing them took a lot of anxiety from you, if you were honest, as they always made you feel as if you had Byers with you - and although he wouldn’t admit it, they took some anxiety from Byers, too. The noise from the chains let him know that you were home safely and soundly after shifting, and he started to listen out for them at dawn after a full moon, they let him know that you came back to him, that he didn’t lose you; but in return, you bought Byers a leather necklace that fit him just right, dark brown in colour with a pendant in the form of a European Wolf’s tooth and a small metal plate that sat at the back of his neck that read: “gobeithio y bydd hyn yn dod â lwc dda i mi” - he often tucked it beneath his shirts and hid it, but when he was out working and chasing after leads and conspiracies, when he grew nervous and needed reassurance and luck, he always fiddled with the necklace, running his fingertips over the sharp canine tooth and across the embedded words. 

And now, as he stood in front of the door to your family home, he held your hand so tightly, biting at the inside of his lip and reaching up with his free hand to run his fingertips along the metal plate on the necklace; this was the first time he would be meeting your family, and in all honesty, he was a nervous wreck about it. He dreaded it. What if they didn’t like him? What if they hated him? What if they thought he wasn’t good enough because he didn’t have a government job? 

“Relax,” you grumbled, leaning into him and giving his hand a little squeeze. “It’ll be fine.” 

Byers did relax a little at the words of reassurance, sighing as he nodded and dared to let go of your hand, slipping his hand into your back pocket as he bounced on his heels a little. “Are you sure? I mean, what if they hate me, (y/n)? What if they think I’m… what if they don’t think I’m good enough for you? Or worse? What if they think I’m just with you for, I don’t know… something other than love?” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and letting out a low and quiet growl of his name beneath your breath. “Trust me on this, they’re not gonna hate you. They’re not gonna think you’re not good enough. They don’t care about anything, just the fact that you love me. Trust me.” 

“I do trust you,” Byers muttered, licking his lips and trying to steady his nerves. 

Fox had told him you had a big family; four cousins, three sisters, three nephews, two aunts, five uncles, your father, and your grandmother… and he really wanted to make a good impression. He was wearing his best suit, freshly ironed, his best tie, his cleanest shoes, his hair was combed and somewhat styled, his beard freshly neatly trimmed - but that didn’t stop the way he shook and trembled, that didn’t stop his heart from feeling like it was in his chest, nor did it stop the sweat that threatened to roll down his back. 

When your father opened the door with a broad and beaming smile, Byers’ eyes widened; he was a hulking man, he looked like he could break Byers’ in half with just his index finger, but when he opened his mouth, his voice was as soft as it was deep. “(y/n)! My precious son!” 

Your father stole you from Byers, yanking you into a tight hug that had you squirming and howling to be let go, laughter in your voice as you struggled to free yourself from the affection, but when you did finally break free, you grinned. 

“Dad, this is John. John, this is my dad.” 

“Please!” Your father beamed, laying a heavy hand on Byers’ shoulder. “You didn’t say he was so handsome, (y/n)... fuck, where are my manners? Welcome, welcome! Come inside! Everybody’s here, y’know.” 

Following your father inside, Byers saw the four cousins, two aunts and five uncles and three sisters in the living room, chatting to none other than Agent Scully, who was smiling and laughing along with them; in the kitchen, Fox Mulder was helping himself to the carton of orange juice, and when your father moved to lean against the nearest counter, Byers gawked. It gave you the perfect opportunity to go and see your grandmother in the conservatory, letting you slip away while your best friend and partner chatted a little.

“M- Mulder?” 

“Hey, Byers,” Fox shrugged, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. 

“I see you two know each other,” your father mused, raising a thick brow with nothing but amusement. “John, how do you know my other son?” 

“We, uh, we’re friends,” Byers stuttered to answer, chuckling nervously; sure, he was a little relieved that both Fox and Dana were there, but that didn’t stop the shock. He had a feeling he knew how your father and Fox knew one another. “And, and y’know, we sometimes, uh, we sometimes work together, too.” 

Your father let out a curious sound, nodding along before he chuckled and shook his head. “You know, Fox here is family. We’ve known him since he was a pup, and I couldn’t be prouder of him. He’s working a case at the moment with his partner, Dana, she’s so lovely, she’s so smart!” 

Someone called for your father, and he politely excused himself before leaving the room, leaving Fox and Byers alone. 

“I drop in when I’m near,” Fox explained, “me and Scully are working a case in the next town over, and we heard about you two coming over, so… we decided to swing by, too, if that’s okay with you?” 

“More than,” Byers sighed, running a hand through his hair and daring to smile. “Good lord, I’m so nervous.” 

Fox grinned, shaking his head and scratching the back of his head; he had known your family for years, and if there was one thing he had picked up, it was that there was no need for Byers to be so nervous around them. “They’re good people, I wouldn’t be too worried - besides, you make their (Y/n) happy, so that gives you an automatic pass into their good books.” 

“Huh…” Byers looked around, tilting his head when you came back into the kitchen with your grandmother; she was taller than your father by a little bit, and when she saw Byers, she shook her head. 

“He’s so skinny,” she commented, tutting and pinching his cheeks while you and Fox stood behind her laughing. “You need to eat more, melys.” 

Embarrassed but too polite to do otherwise, Byers shrugged in response. 

“He _ is _ rather handsome, though,” she hummed in approval, nodding. “Very handsome, actually… do you have a friend that’s single, melys?” 

Byers’ eyes widened as he looked past your grandmother to see you and Fox leaning on one another and giggling, shaking your heads you tried not to burst out laughing. He grumbled as he cleared his throat and tried not to seem too embarrassed. 

“Uh, actually, ma’am, if you beg my pardon, I-” 

“Oh, you’re too polite,” she gushed, shaking her head before finally turning to you and Fox, growling as she sighed. “And what’s so funny?” 

“Nothing…” you muttered, the smile on your lips a dead giveaway. 

“Absolutely nothing…” Fox chortled, jabbing you in the ribs with his elbow but soon doubling over when you did it back. “Ow!” 

“Serves you right!” You barked, growling playfully at him, but just as you were about to pounce, your grandmother rolled her eyes, and got between you and your best friend, who peered around her to poke his tongue out at you. 

“It’s like dealing with children…” your grandmother sighed, but she soon smiled again, ruffling yours and Fox’s hair. “Get, go on, go run off and play somewhere.” 

“Ma’am, I’m actually here with-” Byers was cut off when you planted your lips on his, grinning against him as you cupped his cheeks. When he pulled away, all he could whisper was your name so softly. 

“Come on,” you chuckled, seizing his hand and dragging him into the living room, you whistled to one of your sisters, and led her and Byers outside. “John, this is my second eldest sister.” 

“Pleasure,” she held her hand out for him to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you from (y/n).” 

Byers nodded, a little unsure of what to say if he was honest. “Uh, thank… thank you.” 

“I’m sorry about our gran,” she told him sincerely. “She’s very, uh…” 

“Brilliant?” You suggested with a smirk. 

“I was going to say she’s very welcoming,” your sister chuckled, rolling her eyes. 

Byers looked at you, squeezing your hand a little bit, a bit more reassurance, that’s all he wanted. 

“I just, uh, I hope she likes me…” he admitted, using his free hand to rub the back of his neck as he dared to laugh nervously. 

Your sister shook her head, scoffing and pulling out two cigarettes from her back pocket; she lit them up, and passed one to you, taking a drag from her own. “Trust me, if she didn’t like you, you wouldn’t have made it past a minute in there… I do think, though, that she definitely likes the fact that you make (y/n) so happy.”

“I’m stood right fucking here,” you huffed, shaking your head. 

“I’m not fucking talking to you,” she replied with a smile. 

“I don’t fucking care,” you grinned, baring your fangs at her, an action she copied, but then you laughed, and hugged her tightly. “I fucking miss you, you douchebag.”

“I know you do,” she beamed. “I don’t miss you, though.” 

You scoffed, pulling away and giving her the middle finger. “I hate you.” 

“I hate you, too,” your sister hummed before turning to Byers. “How do you put up with him?” 

Byers shrugged, smiling a little as he slipped his hand into your back pocket and allowed you to lean against him once more; he couldn’t stand the smell of smoke, but for now, he could let it pass. “Well, I, uh, I love him.” 

Your sister rolled her eyes, shaking her head and quickly finishing her cigarette. “I gotta go check on my son, do you want me to send Fox back out with Dana?” 

“Please!” You called out after her, and within a moment’s notice, she was gone, and Fox was sat on the patio beside where you were stood. Dana stood by the door, a content smile on her face as she took in a breath. 

“How is everyone?” You asked, lightly kicking his thigh and tilting your head. 

“Pretty good, actually,” Fox answered with a nod. “I think they might replace you with me, though.” 

Before you could kick him a bit harsher, Byers gently pushed you a few steps back, causing you to grumble. “John! I wasn’t gonna kick him  _ that  _ hard!”

“I’ve never seen this side of either of you,” Dana admitted, nearly musing to herself as she tapped her chin and smiled. “It’s like you really are siblings.”

You scoffed, poking your tongue out at Fox. “Yeah, except I’d disown him if we were related.” 

“Good grief…” Byers sighed, shaking his head and doing his best not to smile as he thought about what Dana had said; she was right, you and Fox were very much like siblings, switching between bickering and being kind, play-fighting and having heart-to-heart conversations. 

“(y/n)’s grandmother loves you, though, Byers,” Dana said kindly, sincerely. “She thinks the sun shines out of your ears.” 

Byers chuckled nervously, surprised when you wrapped your arm around his waist and buried yourself against his side, he dared to wrap his arm around your shoulders in an attempt to keep you as close as humanly possible. “She seems very nice.” 

“Everyone here that he’s met likes him,” you shrugged, looking at Byers with a wink. “But nowhere near as much as I do.” 

Byers blushed a little, stiffening as he cleared his throat and let out a bashful laugh. 

“Nobody likes Byers half as much as you do, (y/n),” Fox commented. “But I think we should all go back inside - Byers hasn’t met the entire family, just yet.” 

The living room was crowded, giving you an excuse to sit on Byers’ lap as he had stolen the last available chair; your arms were around his neck, sat with your side against his chest as he kept on hand on your knee, the other on your lower back; your uncles thought that he was interesting enough, patient with him when he stuttered and stumbled over his words; your cousins thought he was boring, but they tolerated him enough, and you allowed it to slide because they were still in secondary school; your aunts and your grandmother thought that he was just absolutely precious, as did your other two sisters; your father seemed quite keen on Byers, too, just as patient with him as your uncles were, although perhaps a little more gentle in his approach. But when your nephews came into the room, Byers was amazing with him; he was quite happy to play with their little dinosaur toys and to go along with their completely wild and random games, and he even tried to get Fox to join in - which, surprisingly, he did - but as you watched Byers play with the children, you couldn’t help but to wonder something: would he be good with his own? Would Byers be a good father? 

The subject wasn’t one you had thought of before, but when you watched him, how gentle and patient with them he was, you couldn’t push it from your mind, and the thought of being a father alongside the man you loved was certainly something that you knew you wouldn’t stop thinking of; perhaps one day in the future, when things were a bit more stable, you would ask him about it. But it could wait for now. 

But then your father decided to make something for tea, and you were treated to his famous vegetarian hot dogs with extra spicy curry sauce, which you couldn’t deny, you absolutely wolfed down along with the rest of your ‘pack’ - with the exception of Byers and Dana, who took their time to eat - and when you looked at Byers with a slight grin, he shook his head. 

“You have a little…” he gestured to the corner of his mouth, watching you try to get it for a moment before he licked his thumb and gently wiped it off, fondly shaking his head. “Were you raised by wolves?” 

You gestured to the pack around you with a chuckle. “Why is that a question?”

“So! John!” Your father’s voice boomed, echoing off of the walls as he smiled. “I completely forgot to ask how you met my son. Was it through my other son?” 

Freezing a little, Byers cleared his throat, choking on the air he was breathing before he managed to find his nerve and to smile, sharing a look with you. “Kind of, yes, Sir.” 

Byers then explained that it was by sheer accident, meeting you; he only met you because he was with Langly and Frohike looking for a certain piece of paperwork that Fox had asked them to find, and you had walked in right as they were rooting through his drawers. It kept happening, too, Byers and his associates would constantly accidentally meet you here and there, whether it was out on the streets or at Fox’s apartment, or even sometimes in Fox’s office - it was never planned, but even still, it kept happening again and again… but the moment that made Byers realise that he had fallen for you was when he was making coffee at Fox’s apartment, and you had reached for the pot at the exact same time, getting awkwardly close so that your chest was against his. 

The story made you both laugh, but Fox simply glared at you, shaking his head. “I knew it was you that kept stealing my coffee!” 

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” you chuckled, giving him the middle finger and scoffing playfully. “You’re just jealous.”

“You stole my coffee!” Fox whined. 

“And you stole literally every single turtleneck I ever owned!” You shot back, silencing him. 

If someone had asked you how the day had gone and what you thought, you would have said that you were pretty impressed that your family liked Byers, you would have said that you were quite shocked, too, as you had never known them to accept someone into the pack so readily and eagerly; but all the same, you knew that you made the right decision to take him over that day, as you had a very strong feeling that having Dana and Fox there definitely helped Byers. However, you did regret the fact that you couldn’t ask him what he thought on the way back, as while he was driving, you had fallen asleep in the passenger side, snoring softly and grumbling and growling in your sleep; it was a good day, a fine day, a day you would cherish, a day you would look back on awfully fondly. You were glad of it. You were glad that your family took Byers in and welcomed him, that they accepted him just as they had done with Fox and Dana, that they had approved of the relationship so greatly and wonderfully… although you did make a note to give Frohike your grandmother’s number and tell him that it was your sister’s just to mess with him. 

『••✎••』

The following day, you spent lounging around the Gunmen’s office, partly messing around with Jimmy, partly helping Langly sort out a coloured overlay for his computer screen in hopes that it would help his dyslexia a little, and partly avoiding Frohike after giving him your grandmother’s number; Byers was busy all day, and although he loved having you around the office, you felt bad for disturbing him, for pulling him away from his work in the slightest. So, you avoided him until he had a break here and there, or until you got bored enough that it outweighed the guilt. 

“Jimmy!” You shouted, holding up the rugby ball in your hand. “Go long!” 

“No!” Byers yelped, jumping up and taking the ball from you gently, his glare hiding how amused he was behind a mask of sternness. “Please, not inside.” 

You shrugged, nodding and pecking his cheek with a smirk. “We’ll be outside.” 

Byers grumbled softly, letting you and Jimmy escape outside before collapsing into his chair; he allowed the door to be locked by Langly again until he finally spoke up. “Guys, what am I gonna do?” 

“Do about what? Your boyfriend being a decent sportsman?” Langly joked, looking up from behind his screen. 

Byers shook his head, sighing heavily, he doubled over in his chair and held his head in his hands, groaning loudly. 

“Byers?” Frohike frowned, daring to look over at his associate; there was a thud outside, followed by a laugh that made him shake his head. “Byers, are you okay?” 

“No…” Byers admitted quietly. 

“What’s wrong, man?” Langly moved over to sit beside Byers, furrowed brows and lips turned into a frown. 

Byers shrugged, running a hand through his hair, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a little black velvet box, causing Langly and Frohike to gasp softly. 

“You’re gonna pop the question?” Frohike questioned, eyes wide. 

“Dude-”

“I was going to ask (y/n) to marry me,” Byers confirmed with a heavy and burdensome sigh. “But now… what if it’s too early? I mean, what if he says no? What if he wants to wait?” 

“Byers,” Langly chuckled, shaking his head. “(y/n)’s been talking about marrying you for… ages, dude.” 

“I know, I know, and we’ve talked about it, but…” Byers shook his head, letting out another heavy sigh; sure, he had talked to you about it before, and you had taught him how to dance, but… what if you said no? 

Kicking back in his chair, Langly shook his head and placed his hands at the back of his head. “He won’t say no.” 

“Not if we know (y/n),” Frohike admitted. “He’s more likely to say yes a thousand times.” 

Byers opened the little box, the plain golden band that had his name written on the inside, he had a matching one with your name on it to match - a way of always being together, as even though you had the chains, and he had his necklace, he thought it was a nice idea. But now he wasn’t so sure. “What if he doesn’t like the ring?” 

Frohike came over to examine it, soon enough scoffing after a few seconds, shaking his head and tutting. “Byers, it would be perfect. (y/n) will love it.” 

“Yeah, dude,” Langly agreed with a nod. “He’s gonna think it’s perfect, don’t worry.” 

Byers still wasn’t quite sure, tucking the little box back into his pocket and sighing heavily, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a grumble of both frustration and anguish; why was it so hard to ask a question that only consisted of four words? Why was it so hard to ask a question that seemed so easy on the television and in books and in literally every other situation? Why was it so hard to get one little thing so right, so perfect, down to the very last detail? Down to the very smallest syllable that would be leaving his mouth? Sure, he knew that you would be happy with any old proposal, whether it was incredibly romantic or not, but… he wanted it to be right, he wanted it to be perfect. 

“Well, you know what they say,” Langly hummed with a shrug. 

“What do they say?” Byers asked rather apathetically. 

“If you like it, you should’ve put a ring on it.” 

“Oh, good lord…” 

Minutes in silence felt more like hours, if any one of the trio was being honest, waiting for you and Jimmy to return from your little game outside, but Byers was especially tortured by it; constantly second guessing every single little decision he wanted to make about asking the question, constantly overthinking every small step and every small and tedious detail, constantly doubting himself. Sure, he still dreamed of the white picket fence life with you, and he had most of it now, he really wanted to ask you to marry him, he genuinely did, as every time he thought of calling you his husband or of you calling him your husband, he always felt a certain shock and rush of excitement and joy flood through his veins. Painting “Mr. & Mr.” on the postbox outside. Oh god, what if you wanted to keep your name? What if you didn’t want to take his or even let him take yours? He guessed it wouldn’t be too bad, but it would be a bit of a hassle to explain. Besides, he liked the thought of you being “(Y/N) BYERS” quite a fair bit. Maybe that conversation could wait until he had popped the question first, though - in fact, it could definitely wait until at least then, and it probably would. What was taking you so long outside? It was just a game of catch, what could possibly be taking so long? The lack of howling and screaming meant that you definitely had not shifted, plus it wasn’t a full moon, either; the lack of noise was startling, but not nearly as startling at the sudden pounding on the door. 

“Hey, look, they’re back!” Langly chuckled, unlocking the door and allowing you and Jimmy inside; but you looked upset. 

“(y/n)?” Byers got up immediately, gently gripping your upper arms and looking you over for any signs of wounding. “What happened? What’s wrong?” 

“Our ball popped…” you muttered, pouting, but the relief on Byers’ face made you smile as he swept you up in his arms, hugging you tightly against his chest; his hands were on your shoulder blades while you threw yours around his shoulders, burying your head against his chest and grumbling lowly as Byers smiled. Maybe he could pop the question. He would have to buy a new rugby ball, though. 

“How did you manage to pop a rugby ball?” Langly asked, turning to Jimmy with a confused expression. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Jimmy cleared his throat. “We, uh, we were playing fetch…” 

“Fangs,” you muttered against Byers’ chest. “They went right through.” 

Maybe Byers wouldn’t buy a new rugby ball, actually. 

“It was so cool, though!” Jimmy grinned, excited to tell the story again. “(y/n) jumped, like, ten feet in the air to catch it and he bit down on it and it just went-”

“I’m sorry…” you whined, looking up at Byers with an expression of nothing but sheer guilt and remorse and regret; but he could never be angry at you, he couldn’t do anything except smile and shrug. 

“It’s fine, we’ll, we’ll buy another,” he assured, kissing your forehead. He would definitely buy another, but he would at least do a quality check, first, this time. “Listen, I, uh, I’ve got a few extra paragraphs to finish, so if you wanna head home… I won’t be long.” 

You shook your head, much to his relief, and only tried to hug him closer as you let a whine escape the back of your throat. “I wanna stay with you, if that’s okay?” 

“Sure,” Byers agreed, looking between his associates. They all nodded in agreement. “You know you’re always welcome to hang around here… right, guys?” 

“Yeah!” Jimmy grinned, nodding eagerly. 

“We told Mulder ages ago, you’re a treat to have around,” Frohike agreed, sitting at his computer and shrugging off his leather jacket. 

Langly was the only one not to answer, if only because he had his headphones in and was trying to figure out how to use the blue overlay on the screen; but he didn’t mind, he quite liked having you around as much as anyone else did, he quite enjoyed your company from time to time, too. You were a friend. 

You spent most of the time on Byers’ lap, taking the position you always did when you sat on his lap while he was typing away on his laptop; straddling him, you were draped over him, your face buried in the crook between his shoulder and his neck, and while you did occasionally fall asleep, Byers found it increasingly hard to move despite the fact that he was doing his best to finish that one final paragraph whilst also trying not to wake you up. He supposed it wasn’t quite as bad as the nights where you laid on him and sprawled out over him because you put most of your weight on his chest, and while it did make him realise was being crushed did feel like, he never did have the heart to move you, instead spending the entire night holding onto you tightly; he never much minded the fact that you would fall asleep on him like that, it was one of the things that made him love you. It was one of the things that made him realise just how much he would have enjoyed to be yours in matrimony, too. 

So he waited, he waited and waited and waited and waited for you to eventually stir, grumbling and growling and yawning, stretching so harshly that it nearly made him topple backwards, thankfully catching the edge of the desk just in time, grunting out his name as you sniffed the air before, finally, opening your eyes and pulling away; even when you had just woken up, Byers always thought you were so handsome, the most handsome man he had never had the pleasure of meeting in his life. He couldn’t help but to smile when you pressed your forehead against his, grumbling his name. 

“You’re awake,” Byers whispered, looking over at Langly and Frohike and Jimmy, who were all sound asleep and dotted around the office like sleeping dogs. “How did you sleep?” 

You let out another yawn, opening your mouth so wide that Byers almost wondered if you dislocated your jaw, but when he saw those large canine teeth, he actually breathed out a sigh of relief. 

“Pretty good, actually,” you licked your lips, letting out a third and final yawn, nearly howling as you did so. “Y’know, John, you make a damn good pillow.”

Chuckling softly, Byers shrugged, smiling at you awfully fondly; was now the time? Could he do it now or should he wait? He gave it great time and consideration, reaching up to scratch at his beard as he dared to think harder; he had to make up his decision, and quickly, too. He had to decide whether or not he would finally ask you to be his from now until the end of time, whether or not he would finally ask you to be his husband until his dying days and until your own dying days. 

He would. 

Pulling out the box from his pocket, Byers didn’t fail to notice how his hands shook as he opened it to expose the ring inside, biting his bottom lip as he dared to ask, oh so quietly, riddled with anxiety as his heart pounded in his chest, “(y/n) would you be my husband?” 

You were agawk, aghast, speechless, dumbfounded, gobsmacked, but when the initial shock faded, you could only grin, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you nodded, voice breaking as you dared to utter a single word: 

“yes.”


End file.
